#fairweatherfriends
A trade.
A treasure.
One—
Bought
For a Birthday.
Another—
It will follow me
Until death.
She likes black.
Got a little-bit-o’ “New York City” within her.
She likes her coffee “blonde”.
All things that I like about her.
Especially, that she is an introvert.
All things that “describe her”
…”Sunshine, music, and peace”…
We used to live down by the water;
We’d wash our hair in the lake
Just for fun.
She is so much cooler than “a fun mom”;
She is “Jo Cool”.
She, literally, used to have a parakeet named “Woodstock”.
He was green and learned how to talk.
He would tell her sisters to "...do the dishes".
And he would fly around the house, and land in my Nana’s
Gray, and well-groomed bird’s nest up top.
He would, also, crawl up her brother’s sleeve, and I’m sure
That he taught Woodstock some “choice words”.
When I had birds; parakeets,
The couple, Duncan and Lillian,
Had three babies that had hatched.
My mom saw the first one, naming it “Peepers”,
And saving her from being lost
Underneath the safety bar at the bottom of the cage.
The next one that hatched
Was “Duckie”, of whom,
I watched hatch,
Before school, one day,
And I put down some paper
Over the mulch at the bottom to save her.
Thirdly, came “Shawn”, spelled the female version of the name,
Although “she” was a “he”,
And a mate “for life”
With Duckie.
We each watched our birds grow, in amazement
Of how birds grow from a sudden, direct hatch.
But do not get me into “the family drama”:
The birds were not feathered friends,
But feathered foe.
Peepers had a tryst, caught by her father's eye;
Never taking her "under his wing",
But caught between
What it was like to be drawn in.
While Shawn and Duckie were the pearls
Promised before death do feathered friends apart.
And the poor, old mother died of cancerous breast.
We put her down
On my mom’s Birthday, no less.
So, where do “fair-weather friends” go?
Simply, just lost into the ether,
And find God on the way back?
So, I’ll save my mom’s faded black jean jacket,
Until death, when there’s nothing left,
But a faded black jean jacket.
©2025EllenFinn
Nov 13, 2025
Nov 13, 2025 at 7:28 PM UTC
*Some friends think they are so important. . . Essential
They aim to be very close to you. . . Residential
They take total control of your life. . . Presidential
They ride over your decisions. . . . Influential
And claim they deserve the merit. . . Credential
Then disappear when problems result. . . Consequential*
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 5:36 AM UTC