​Simple Things by Donna Meares

The simple things of life bring me smiles,
like the bird house made of wood from an old red barn.
It sits atop a garden post
holding safe its second hatch—bluebird family--
     flashes of sapphire,
     zipping in and out, feeding their young.

The fledglings will soon find their own way into the big sky.
As did our daughters.

In spring, I sometimes walk the meadow,
see sunshine in daisy faces--
their centers innocent, happy,
their white petals holding the secret
that pre-teen girls
pursue by that fanciful plucking--
     “He loves me, 
     he loves me not.”

I need no daisy petals to tell me what love is.
We know each other long and well--
know the simple things that make each other happy.
     He builds me bird houses,
     hands me daisies from the meadow.

I, too, know what warms his heart, 
brings us near--
     simple things--
     a plate of barbeque, 
     a frosty mug of beer.