Emotional Support Nuthatch and Other Art
by Erin Stinson
EMOTIONAL SUPPORT NUTHATCH
I met my friend, Nuthatch,
on a Friday afternoon
spent in defiance
of the heavy morning
we’d been subjected to.
Her sweet little face,
a delight-filled surprise,
popped out from behind
a gnarled poplar tree—
backlit among leaves now gilded.
She brought dappled sunshine
that joined us in our resistance
to the gloom and grey
that hides in pockets
and underneath wings.
I wonder if she knew
how she brightened my day,
inching ever closer
in mutual curiosity—
a closer look at each face.
Her burbled chatter
a greeting or advice,
perhaps an acknowledgement
of days dull and hard.
Thank you, dear Nuthatch.
I needed you today.
RESUSCITATION
in the shambles of striving
crushed from the pressing
an emergency
I could not find my own pulse
in the fading light
love rushed me
to the place
my heart was known
to beat
under a hazy pink sky
towering lodgepole pines
at the foot of rocky peaks
a gently meandering stream
an invitation whispered
from the wind housed
between my brittle bones
to the water’s edge
I stepped into its flow
the glacial current
a defibrillator—a jolt back
to the land of the living
amid the question
if the place I’ve been dwelling
is merely a wasteland
worthy of return
tender soles pressed
into jagged edges
toes gulped up hope
as if they could drink
on my behalf
moved step by step
within this wild intravenous
could I just stay here
forever connected
like another tree—evergreen
or the moss on the bank
our roots plunged deep
and interconnected
beneath the river
that saves a life