Sometimes you still visit me
in the convoluted visions of my dreams
and even though
I have not seen you
in more than twenty years
the image of your face
remains as vivid as if
we had parted ways
only yesterday

in my back yard
if you listen closely
from near the back window
you might hear
the sound
of chickadees
but unless you’re careful
by the time you
part the curtain
to look outside
a swinging suet ball
and some motion in the trees above
will be the only visual evidence
that they were ever here

what kinds of birds
visit your back yard
and do I
ever visit your dreams?
and do those visits make you sad?