Richard Vargas’ poem reminded me of one I posted sometime ago called Birdfoot’s Grandpa. We each have those idiosyncratic things that make us who we are. We might save frogs, feed birds, serve meals in a shelter, etc. It is in those moments which are largely unexplainable, but clearly visible that we become who we are.
Something that stood out for me in both poems was the role elders played in the lives of others. Our grandparents and parents do things that we do not understand in the given moment. It is only years later as we experience our roles as parents, grandparents, and pedagogues that we come to understand what it might have meant.
When we take time and make the world a better place, we add something no one else can. In that addition, the world does become better. It is rarely in the large and overtly obvious things, but in the small, less obvious contributions that the world shifts from ordinary to extraordinary. It is giving without any certainty and hope of a return. We do it because it is who we are in our particular humanness which is always being and becoming in relationship with the universe.
And, it make a difference to birds, to frogs, and people in need when we add to the world without expecting return. In those moments, they are small gods in our lives. Those offerings make a difference in our lives without awareness of their importance. They add to our lives enriching them and making them fuller.
i saw my grandmother hold out
her hand cupping a small offering
of seed to one of the wild sparrows
that frequented the bird bath she
filled with fresh water every day
she stood still
maybe stopped breathing
while the sparrow looked
at her, then the seed
then back as if he was
judging her character
he jumped into her hand
began to eat
she smiled
a woman holding
a small god
Teacher as Transformer 
This brought such tender tears.
Thank you for a poignant comment.
This reminds me so very much of my father and my grandmother and why they fed the birds and why I do, today.
We often question why our parents and grandparents did certain things and find ourselves repeating them in some form when we mature.
I think we finally realize the wisdom. My father could go outside and start whistling. The birds knew their,friend was outside and that there would,be worms in the soil he was working. Or breadcrumbs or seeds. He’d have one in hand and a couple on his shoulders. There was,not an animal or baby that could resist him.
They would sense he meant no harm.
What a lovely poem! We hold these small gods in our hands in small and mostly unnoticeable moments, and the world changes just a little bit.
All we should expect are those small changes and we are invited to be more fully present as a result.
Thank you for this lovely poem, you share your very own small gods with such generosity.
Thank you for the beautiful comment.
je le fais depuis des années… I simply love all animals, so birds, too… 🙂
Beautiful poem.
i thank you for your take on my poem. it provided some insights i had not considered. it’s always enlightening to read what my work makes someone else think or feel. it is from my recent book: Guernica, revisited. this poem was actually featured april 1, on Garrison Keillor’s Writer’s Almanac. you can order the book from Press 53, and i have a link on my website, http://www.richardvargaspoet.com.
Thank you for the taking the time and commenting Richard. Poetry is spacious. It is what is said in the spaces between the words and punctuations that adds immensely to the reading. I look forward
As I read the poem such joy filled me with smiles! I enjoyed the post immensely…thanks for sharing my brother!
You are welcome Wendell. It is in the small things we find the greatest joy.
Loved this poem. My daughters and I used to hand-feed chickadees (our Maine State Bird) winters long ago. Your poem brought back fond memories. THANKS! 🙂
You are welcome Bette. We used to put suet out for the birds when we visited the farm.
Ivon this sweet post has moved me to tears! Birds are very precious to me. Robins, finches, chickadees and song sparrows nest in our huge old trees quite safely… considering a wild woman waving towels chases the magpies and free-ranging cats away if they dare enter this songbird-friendly area! (ya I don’t care what neighbors think) While magpies are very clever and interesting, they can go kill young birds somewhere else, and although I am an animal-loving cat owner (servant, you know) I am not a fan of free-range cats. Love this post! Thank you!! hugs, Gina
Thank you for a beautiful and moving comment Gina. Take care of you and those birds.