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.