Scarf of a Lady

Poetry is storytelling; it is capturing a moment in script. This poem by Bobbi Sinha-Morey holds both of these traits, tugging us to remember the ordinary. To relish what may be a simple encounter or act within our day. Alike Mary Oliver’s writings, a seemingly mundane moment captured in text can give a whole new appreciation, sparking a revelation in how we recognize the daily magic that unfolds around us.

We couldn’t be more honored to introduce Bobbi as not only our newest guest author, but as a Contributor to the Introspective Collective website. I pray her words hold a resonating warmth, as they did with me.

---

Scarf of a Lady

by Bobbi Sinha-Morey

• • •

One morning I saw a lady's
scarf caught in a plum tree
waving to me, the growing
blueness of dawn reflected
on its cotton white surface,
and I recognized its cursive
emblem, a tea rose so carefully
sewn and I wondered how long
my neighbor Anna knew it had
been missing, if at all, before
it had been gone. She, a pretty
woman in her sixties who
always lit up whenever she
saw me, often brought over
soothing plum cherries in the
summer. And when I thought
of her and the light clothes
she wore, I remembered she
loved airy scarves in the spring.
This one I'd found must've
been wind-borne before being
snared on the limb of a tree,
a joyous flight all its own,
and it was so feathery when
I touched it to my skin.
I returned it to her that day
and she happily weighed
it in her hand.