Alone

In Winter I fly alone,

Here and there.

I don't travel in flocks.

I stand my ground.

Isolation.

 

I perch,

Observing curiously.

The Holly branches entwined around me,

Their bright red berries compete against my plumage.

 

Am I alone?

The image of me and my tree stare back at you.

Thousands of cards bring me into your home.

I am the image of the season.

 

Once a year, I connect people back.

Only for a brief minute, as their eyes scan the handwriting.

The card is put on show or discarded into a pile.

 

A New Year arrives.

My image casually thrown in the recycling bin.

The people who remembered one another....forget.

For another year their brief connection is broken

And forgotten.

 

 



 

J.E. DYE