A Blessing In Black


(11/25/2019)

By: Ted Haaland

Black fur-ball bounds across my lawn
just moments after the break of dawn.
Up, then down, my Green Ash tree,
now straight toward me at my kitchen pane,
small paws raised as if in recognition.
When my love and I were newly wed,
and bought this old riverside home,
we often spied, scampering through our lot,
Sciurus Carolinensis, randomly born melanistic,
a variation known as the Black Squirrel.
Then, for years they didn’t come,
as if they’d disappeared.
Now for the three past long years,
I often sit alone, and gaze,
for now my wife has gone.
Then just today — a memory reborn,
like an ebon apparition.
Was it chance, or was Sciurus sent?
Might it have been by her intent?
I lift my hand in salutation.

 

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