Spirit Animal

I do not know

what he keeps saying

as he tilts his head

toward my outstretched hand

and hums in an alto voce

only the owl outside seems to understand,

his eyes half-masted and slow blinking

in utter satisfaction.

Hauling myself up,

picking my way down

stairs, I am a drupe about to split.

I can’t get the words out,

if ever there was language.

This is quiet old age arriving on my stoop,

stealthy as he is.

I open the door.

“May as well come in,” I say,

charmed by the chestnut bird

he’s brought me.

---

Julia Wendell’s new collection of poems, Daughter Days, was published by Unsolicited Press in 2025. She is the founding editor of Galileo Press, lives in Aiken, South Carolina, and is a three-day event rider. Visit www.juliawendell.com.