opening the aperture
i hang a seed wreath from a bare pussywillow branch—
a wreath of seeds for my neighborhood wintering birds.
i watch in wonder as word spreads
with high-speed internet alacrity from
nuthatch to tufted titmouse to chickadee to cardinal,
and i’m dazzled two days later when the weight of snow
arches several pussywillow branches to create the prettiest
of little shelters over the seed wreath,
and even more birds come—
woodpecker, bluebird, blue jay, sparrow.
so much joy i take in observing these friends
in a dance of color, tuft, wing, and alertness
as they jockey gently for position, move closer, hop back,
alight, cock their heads, wait their turn, snag a snack.
this morning, however, a week later,
no wreath on the tree,
no lively congregation of birds. instead,
a single gray squirrel in the space beneath the bench
on the deck adjacent to the pussywillow,
feasting on the bounty of the brazenly purloined
and fiercely guarded wreath.
gotta say, my first reaction is
git, you thieving varmint!
but,
maybe this is an opportunity to practice “both/and”—
maybe i can be both irritated and generous?
maybe i can imagine a tag on the wreath, a tag that says
wreath for absolutely every seed-eating neighborhood critter
or, better yet, maybe i can place a tag on my own heart that says
(and was i not just the other day saying this?)
absolutely everything is a chance to give love.
—dotty seiter
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detail from a larger painting;
ink and watercolor pencil on paper
Let’s Face It With Friends series
2026
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Notes on poem and art:
• “Opening” was a self-reminder to do just that, i.e. to open my heart a little wider to let in more light.
• Big Hair is also a reminder that if not for letting in a little more light and thereby increasing my receptivity and capacity, I might never have met this new friend with her admirably abundant big hair and accompanying spectacularly sizable sense of humor.


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