A Love Poem

I'm no poet, that's certain. But every now and then, inspiration strikes, the Muse sings, and I'll pen something in the moment. I wrote the following poem for JB on the flight between Chicago and Dallas on my way home from Notre Dame (more about that soon).

But, before you read the poem, you should watch Billy Collins read his love poem, "Litany," because it is, I think, a terrific take on the traditional love poem.

And now that you're smiling, you can read the poem for JB.

"The Visitors"

At breakfast we

opened the blinds

and saw the birds.

I was amazed.

Cardinals sang;

blue jays flapped;

and on the porch

a barn swallow

had built its nest

in the corner

of the awning.

I found pleasure

in watching them.

My friends made fun,

calling me old

and their Paw Paw.

Still, I hung my

red and yellow

hummingbird glass—

much like the one

my grandfather

hung when I was

just a young boy—

and the green seed

feeder from the

small hardware store

on Washington.

You smiled at my

surprising new

care for winged

friends in our slant

cherry laurel.

But you never

spoke sarcastic

words you may have

been holding in.

Instead you took

care in helping

stir the nectar

and pour the seed.

Even now, you call

me to the blinds

when visitors perch.

Comfort and love

are often taught

in support groups

with folding chairs

and from pulpits.

Yet they rarely

are performed.

You embody

those elusive

words with an ease

and a rare grace.

To have one that

loves and to be

completely had

is surely a

picture of those

who become one

flesh in their God.