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Some of Susan's poetry was inspired by her time living behind a picture window overlooking San Francisco Bay.
Morning by the Bay
Blue-green waves with white hats
pursue each other, while
Silver fog glides over Alcatraz, tickling its rooftop,
waving good morning
Azure mountains open their eyes
as the
Robins-egg sky gently cradles and
washes slumber from miles of crevices
Sapphire windows drink consciousness,
awaking my
Royal spirit,
vivifying my soul
Birds twitter
Seals bark
Eye Spy
I looked outside this bright blue day
And spied a small birdie looking my way.
She’s there everyday, hour after hour
She sits all day in her ivory tower.
I checked out his beak, his feetsies, his eyes
And noted no extra fat on his thighs!
There are sticks coming out of her chest, oh My!
I wonder if those are what helps her to fly?
His stance was tall, a sentinel, soldier
His chest poofed out, he was stronger, bolder.
What’s that stuff, looks like straw, coming out of her head?
It resembles the weeds I use to make my bed.
His eyes were like marbles, small, black, and round
And he sang the most sweet, quick, chirping sound.
She sure looks funny what’s those things on her face?
They look like small windows, what keeps them in place?
I wondered what in his mind he did ponder
As I sat in my comfortable place viewing yonder.
What a poor, poor woman, she looks captive in there
It’s probably not polite for me to stare.
As I watched him, he watched me, our eyes they did meet
As he sat on his perch and me in my seat.
As I watched her, she watched me, our eyes they did meet
Me on my perch, and her in her seat.
©copyright, 2008 Susan Bremer-O'Neill, All Rights Reserved
Any Article May Be Reprinted with Permission, Copyright Notice and Website Link
