Black-capped Chickadee Parus atricapillus its daintiness is deceiving with looks so frail, and yet they suffer winter storms in these brutal mountains—a banditry after a blizzard. They speckle the blinding snow with dee-dee-dee a song reminiscent of spring in the death of frost maybe that is why I think of her— Emilia when I see these tiny nearly tame acrobats foraging in naked branches finding morsels where I see none —perhaps I was late to meet her, her warmth the way she blanketed my shoulders in a hug how she gave me tidbits for decades lost in this tiny bird’s industrious energy, I see her paused steps among the Mexican streets she shared with the family she nurtured as formidable as a chickadee — my mother
Amelia Díaz Ettinger is a ‘Mexi-Rican,’ born in México but raised in Puerto Rico. As a BIPOC poet and writer, she has two full-length poetry books published; Learning to Love a Western Sky by Airlie Press, and a bilingual poetry book, Speaking at a Time /Hablando a la Vez by Redbat Press, and a poetry chapbook, Fossils in a Red Flag by Finishing Line Press. Her poetry and short stories have appeared in literary journals and anthologies.
Amethyst Review 