photograph by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Little Bird
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
for Rocco Tripodi who worked with children in theater
Little bird
came near
my window.
Ruffled feathers
couldn’t keep
his eyes from closing.
I found him later,
just a wisp
of a body.
Only yesterday
he was bright-eyed
with slicked-back feathers.
The townspeople said
he taught
their children
how to fly.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
Kevin’s Office
a photograph by Alazanto, Kevin Davis, our son
January 17, 2007
Filed under Art, Photography
In the Stone Fields
photograph by Sonja Bingen
a love poem to Ethel by Thomas Davis
In the stone fields
The roots of the pinyon
Interweave with stone.
In the barest silence
Song is worn like a cloak
Of the brightest colors.
May my lips be as a brook
Bubbling forth songs
In praise of my love.
May my heart be as a pinyon,
Drawing forth music
From the barest stones.
Originally published in The New Quiver, University of Wisconsin–Oshkosh, copyright 1972.
Filed under Photography, Poetry, Thomas Davis
Study in Triangles II
a pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
Hummingbird
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Larger than the rest,
a hummingbird came
to show me
how strong he’s become.
He sat on an almond branch
next to the sprinkler
taking a morning bath.
Two weeks ago
we saw
a baby hummingbird
barely clinging
to the feeder
while others pushed
him to the ground.
Now,
in the morning light,
he’s come to show me
he’s ready to make
the great journey
across the Continental Divide,
south
towards South America.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
fourwindowspress 