Today I am sharing a poem I wrote in 2025. It was published in our local paper on April 25th, 2025. It is a reminder to me of so many things- the way God moves on the underside of everything. The way words prompt action, hold power. How a poem can give birth to compassion, and rise up into the community an offering from the Lord, to the Lord.
Burnt Offerings
In its claws
a fish hangs limply
gills pumping the last gulps
of air- unbreathable
A last supper
as the Osprey carries
his prize to pole 5002
on Kingstown Road
in Narragansett
He calls his victory calls,
lands on the three-barreled tree
owned by Rhode Island Energy
which lights a small corner
of this coastal town
Spreading his wings
atop the pole- a sudden jolt
he crackles, the bolt
of electric fire surges through
his feathered body
throws him to the ground
to the place his mother lay
one year earlier,
by the same fate
They say nothing can be done-
and that Osprey
need to have rubber wings…
and who cares for the Osprey?
Today is Good Friday.
There is more to this story, I would like to share in a separate post. But just like the Good News of the gospel, I want to hang in the balance in the somber mood of Good Friday. I will share how this poem- born of tears, prompted a miracle after Easter Sunday. Three days from today, Lord willing!
Enthusiastically, Dawn
#nationalpoetrymonth
Enthusiastically, Dawn 
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