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Pat Conway Interview : Page 4 of 4

Poet and Photographer Pat Conway

continued from page 3

Photo © Pat Conway


Two silhouettes I often saw upon a lofty limb,
they cuddled so, I couldn't tell if it was her or him.
Each morning I would sit and watch as they came down to feed,
searching, ever searching, to find the choicest seed.
I often thought, "How lucky, are these birds to have each other,
for life is so much better when you share it with another."
"They have it made, all day they rest, and coo upon the stem."
How could they know I envied and wished that I were them.
Then, one wintry morning as I watched from safe inside,
a silent shadow crossed the yard, they had no time to hide.
The stalker struck a fatal blow as feathers floated down,
all at once sharp talons held her lover to the ground.
In disbelief I watched the sight I could not bear to see,
and somehow felt a link between that little dove and me.
She sits alone now on the limb, while there beneath the snow,
are bits and pieces of her love, lost not so long ago.
The other birds have stayed away, afraid of shadows now,
but she sits waiting patiently for his return somehow.
With perseverance I await the day when I, too, shall see
the one I loved smile tenderly with open arms to me.
Unlike the dove, I realize my love cannot return,
but as I see her sitting there, my heart begins to yearn.
In vain she waits, the little dove, upon her lofty limb,
not knowing he can't come to her, now she must go to him.

Photo © Pat Conway


The tanagers are in my woods,
I heard their song today.
As daylight broke I heard one call;
It took my breath away.
I walked into the sunrise,
The warmth spread over me.
Despite the cares of daily life
Creation I could see.
In each and every dewy leaf,
In every clump of sod;
I felt the very nearness
and handiwork of God.
From absolutely nothing,
He fashioned what we know.
As I held a tiny bud
I knew that this was so.
A warbler sang three-noted songs
high in the canopy.
When I reached the meadow's edge
I stopped to watch a bee.
All around me nature sang,
In volumes to my soul.
I walked back to my daily life
Feeling well and whole.

Photo © Pat Conway


Across my meadow monarchs flit and dance upon the upturned faces of the Queen-Anne's-Lace.
The trees along the meadows edge stand regally attired in red and gold and flaming orange.
Goldfinch peck at ripened seeds from the bowed heads of sunflowers and twitter to each other.
Honeybees work frantically to gather the gold from the goldenrod before the air turns cold and they must rest or die.
I turn my face towards the autumn sun, close my eyes and let it warm me.
A crow caws in the distance and is answered by its kind.
Invisible, a soft breeze bends and blends each stem and blade upon my meadow. The meadow bows beneath the fingers of the wind, as if in prayer.
I close my eyes again and let the breeze caress me.
The trees, the grass, the lace, the birds the bees and I, we blend, bow, sway and pray together.
This moment, life is as it should be.

Note: This poem won third place in the 2007 Mercer Writer's Conference "Advanced Poet" category. Congratulations, Pat! •

© 2007 Molly J. Anderson-Childers. All rights reserved.

Molly Anderson-Childers is a a highly creative writer and artist from Durango, Colorado. More »