Tag: birds

Poem 20151117

crow8 Comments

the birds exercise their right
to be silent today
avoiding the feeders
and the yard in general
like an apocalypse
en media res
and i didn’t get the memo

the sky is so blue
what kind of blue
what word to replace blue
such a simple set of four letters

but none of the synonyms appeal
it’s blue blue blue
it’s clean-clear, almost white
it’s blue like a transparent
layer of skin that can be peeled back
revealing a host of sword-wielding angels

but are there any other kind?

even angels of mercy carry scalpels
in their tongues
and their words cut away the dead weight
the dying weight
paring you down so that you can fly
like them with hollow bones
silent mouths

you have the right to remain–

Poem 20151115

crow4 Comments

the moon is a crescent
a lopsided smile
that the clouds roll over
a diaphanous film
that hardly diminishes
its light

you ask then for protection
and i wonder
from what?

but then i remember the kind
of world we live in

i feel like i can’t even protect
the worms that we scoop off the sidewalk
after a rain and we toss them
back wriggling into the grass
so they won’t be stepped on
but nothing is stopping the birds

but maybe it’s enough to get them
back on the grass
and maybe the smile from the moon
isn’t a pasted on cheshire grin

Poem 20150831

crow

we hollow them out
the insides of bones
the insides
where the marrow sits
we hollow them out

we dig with our fingers
through the hollow channels
of our bones
whatever it is
that sits in our bones
whatever it is
the fills the bones up
before we hollow them out

we scoop it out
and make them hollow
using drills made for brownies
and pixies
we honeycomb our hollow bones
and make them lighter

getting rid of–
making ourselves lighter
making ourselves light
and we fly
and we

Poem 20150808

crow

the tree so dry and gray
lacking its leaves and
far enough away that i can’t
identify it

not that i have a knack for that

rises up out of equally dry
grass only feet
from a running creek

its roots not long enough
to reach i guess
or not greedy enough
to put so much effort into leaves

a single dove, fat and rough-feathered
sits on one branch
when a second bird
a yellow-chested oriole
arrives

they don’t speak to each other
though the oriole regards me
with tolerant indifference
as i respect its personal space
and commit it to memory with
the aid of binoculars

Poem 20150422

crow

The prompt today is all natural from @NaPoWriMo:

And now for (as always, optional) prompt! Today is Earth Day, so I would like to challenge you to write a “pastoral” poem. Traditionally, pastoral poems involved various shepherdesses and shepherds talking about love and fields, but yours can really just be a poem that engages with nature. One great way of going about this is simply to take a look outside your window, or take a walk around a local park. What’s happening in the yard and the trees? What’s blooming and what’s taking flight?

—–
the feeders in the yard
awash in browns, yellows,
reds, dusty oranges,
gemstone flashes of emerald ruby

lesser finches, american goldfinches
purple finches, house finches
–so many finches
sparrows, dark-eyed juncos, phoebes
the hummingbirds with their high twittering
and constant jousting
an occasional cooing dove
who usually has the sense not
to perch on the feeder

and today a squirrel
tawny and crafty
trying to figure a path to the food

it’s a pleasant thing to look out
and see them from the couch

the glass keeps them there
approach the door and they scatter
so i try not to move
and i wonder
what they talk about
as they dig their beaks into
the food mysteriously provided for them

Poem 20150402

crow2 Comments

the cat
sits at the glass door
not making a sound
just watching
moving only her head
as the hummingbirds
zoom in
and
out
of view
her ribs rise and
fall
and she watches the phoebes hop in the grass
and up into the limbs of the young avocado tree
sporting their little black mohawks
and she thinks–
if cats think like this–
if this door weren’t here…
if this glass weren’t between us…

Poem 20150308

crow

through my open window
i hear the traffic of the freeway
they warned us when we bought
that the freeway was close
were we sure this is where we wanted to buy?
there were other houses that didn’t border
the big river of concrete
with the noise
but it didn’t matter to us
and now
the first day of daylight savings
after we’ve sprung forward
and the sun seems to take longer to
drift below the horizon
the freeway sounds like the roar of an alien ocean
where the waves never crash against
the sand
the rushing of water in some giant river
in fact and not just metaphor
and the motorcycles vibrating growls and shrieks
the shrill cries
of foreign birds seeking a meal
returning again and again
always circling