Magpie
Magpie on the metal rail,
black and white,
echoing the mountain behind—
black pine and white snow.
Wrapped in fleece,
I wait for the water
to boil—
morning tea.
You are gone—
the house feels empty.
There won’t be oranges for breakfast.
And the magpie
and the mountain—
who will share their beauty?
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Hope Rudebusch lives in Northern Arizona and writes poems rooted in memory, ritual, and the natural world. Her work explores quiet moments of connection and loss. This is her first publication.
Beautiful poem.