This morning I woke up trying to recite the words to “I know why the caged bird sings.” Whatever dream preceded it was long gone.
Later on, checking email, I shivered a little to see that this very poem is the poem of the day.
Does it mean something? Is the great poetess trying to communicate with me from the beyond? I don’t know yet, but since it’s on my mind, here’s a work in progress I started several months ago when Ms. Angelou flew this world.
I know why
for the supper
she herself must make
she craves but cannot believe
for fences she never sat on
for— and against—
choices she did not make
for memory of when her voice flew free
and of when it took leave
for the children who ask always why? never