Today I mark the passing of a friend. Sibyl was someone we met here, a friend of a friend on our dock. I will miss her greatly. I wrote this poem in tribute; she was a bird lover, an ornithologist as well as marine biologist. Her two cockatoos, Scout and Spike, were favorites with my kids.
I hope it doesn’t sound absurd
To say my friend was like a bird:
Often fussy, known to preen,
But sensitive to things unseen.
Sometimes silly, sometimes wise,
She had the knowing kind of eyes.
Always friendly and gregarious,
Loved to cackle, often hilarious.
Ruffled or flustered, would sometimes brood,
Needed some coaxing to alter her mood.
Had a gentle and caring way about her—
I can’t imagine the world without her.
Sometimes she tired of her earthly cage
And flapped and battered clipped wings in rage.
I wished for nothing more than this: that she
Could fly from her troubles and be free.
Fly free, my friend, fly free.