by Pat Tyrer
When I am old with cloudy eyes I’ll watch the birds ascend the skies And if I fail to see their flight My ears shall note their heavenly might And if my eyes just can’t discern My soul remembers all it’s learned and deep within and buried well my memories of those birds shall dwell and in the times when most is gone I shall recall their lovely songs and play them back within my mind as loud and vibrant as in my prime. Sweet nature won’t be lost to me because of loss to hear or see for always will those sweet birds give such glorious blessings while I live.
Pat Tyrer is a writer and lover of literature who walks Palo Duro Canyon, Texas bird watching when the sun is up and star gazing when it’s not. She holds the Jenny Lind Porter Endowed Professorship in English and has been on the faculty of West Texas A&M University since 2002. When not reading or writing, she can be found out walking with her dog Emma. Her creative work has appeared in Readers’ Digest, Quiet Mountain Essays, Front Porch Review, Bewildering Stories, and Plum Tree Tavern among others and includes three books of poetry, Creative Hearts (Path Publishing), Western Spaces, Western Places (Local Gems Press), and Pandemic Poets of the Panhandle which she co-edited.