My father loved to listen to the bluebirds in
The bird house he built in our backyard.
When he got old and got Alzheimer’s,
All he could talk about was the bluebirds.
Sometimes it made me a little crazy
But I never let him know what made
Him happy was annoying me.
When he died, the blue birds went away,
And that saddened me almost
as much as losing him until the bluebirds
Sang again in my head, and I knew
It was an afterlife message from him.
Bob Boyd