Snowy

The snow lives, and drifts
here in the sunny South, with
gulf breezes, and egrets’
snowy whites accumulating
on fence posts, the dress
whites of warm winters.

Snowy Egret, Egretta thula

Bokeh

The lens is a monocle
a mockingbird flies right through it
and focus becomes a kind of concern
a bird’s eye does this too

Around every worldly focus
sharp like a chirp, the felt impression
of the periphery is vying, but
I am locked in your focus

And you in mine, and as for
the glassine other, it is wending
its way through the inattention
like noises from the kitchen

Fledgling

fledgling Blue Jay
seems bewildered to be
in the world, what
a peculiar urge

to leave the nest, without
a second thought
to do, and do and rest

in a place where
every moment is
a kind of birth canal
squeezing us out, into
the next, and for what

—to do our best


Young Blue Jay photographed June 28th, 2018, in Galveston, TX where they are said to be somewhat rare.

Newark

busy airport, chaos
joins with miraculous activity
a rock pigeon appears outside
the boarding gate window
with a blue plastic binding strap
in its bill

we too are nest building
migrating, seasonal, nervous egg-layers
flyers, travelers, heady anthill hub
wheeled bags tick-ticking
across the tiles

bringing bits of nest material
with us as carry-on luggage
we jockey for the aisle seats
strange birds, the lot of us
born wingless, yet
we fly

~

April 27, 2018, Newark, New Jersey

White Wing

I’ve always a weak attachment to food
In the kitchen I’m an interloper, mending fences
A field hand to the duties of my own appetite

But here I am, bare feet on the linoleum
Rudimentary gut signals begging for nourishment
Appear to me as cravings for salt, or sugar

And I keep feeding this fount of desires
Rolling up some scrambled eggs in tortillas
While outside, a white-winged dove coos:

Who? Who? Who cooks for you?

Interdependence

arctic telegram
cold feet under warm blankets
raindrop pings window

from tributaries
oceans receiving rivers
snow drift in sunlight

afternoon thermals
heavier than air on wing
the sky believing

sanderlings darting
exhausted wave collapses
on sleepless shoreline

the water’s language
a library of cloud forms
notes on sea napkins

interdependence
words in light of other words
this buoyed upon that


(Everyone writes Haiku about the weather, but nobody does anything about it.)