Wintered Birds Return. To themselves.

A few weeks ago while I was running my Writual Poetry Circle I saw this gorgeous poem online by Ullie Kaye and decided to send it to the group. It felt like a perfect little prompt for in between our sessions.

Here are some of the gorgeous offerings that came back. I am sharing with permission of course. I love how from the heart and body these are. How from the right now these feel. No overthinking. Just a list (or catalog poem) of whatever came to mind.

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I do not love crowds

Unless it’s a crowd of blankets, tumbling.

A crowd of feathery pillows.

A crowd of sleepy heads.

A crowd of warm toes stretching.

By Jane Doutré, Melbourne, Australia

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I do not love crowds unless it’s

A crowd of warm wishes

A crowd of ideas landing in perfect ease

A crowd in our son‘s bed when we all jump in for one last snuggle at night

A crowd of sunbaking nectarines on the side of a French country road

A crowd holding placards at the airport welcoming home loved ones

A crowd of fingers kneading tired feet

A crowd of cheerleading parents on the sideline of a Sunday game

A crowd of debris and torn paper after a joyful Christmas morning

By Samantha Colbert, Singapore

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I do not love crowds

....especially crowds of thoughts and rabbit-hole self talk

But

…if I’m breathing in a dense group of tree-air

…or lolling in the waves

…or winding down the road, on my bike, with hordes of wind in my face

Oh, I do love those kinds of crowds

By Renee Todres Sydney, Australia

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I do not love crowds -

unless it’s a crowd of eucalypts shedding

A crowd of wattle bloom

A crowd of spring shimmer

A crowd of wintered birds, returning

By me

Thanks for reading.

Happy reading and writualing, Chantal xxx