Posts Tagged ‘birds’

Yellow light has become our new carpet.

Light, like grief, reveals

us. And the lilacs gather bees

as my friends gather affection.

Light is my sour token.

Wind is the other.

 

Here is this summer light, but

people would rather wait

for news of stabbings, shootings, and massacres-

though, being human, won’t admit it-

and choose shadow.

But this is ordinary.

Even ornithologists do not fully understand

the language of birds.

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I cherish this moment:

when the wind rolls in

with floral perfume,

when the grass bends-

as if in genuflection- and ripples,

when the birds warble

and their chirps burst like bubbles

and their piccolo-bones sound

their ascent,

when the children’s laughs echo

and fill emptiness where the birds and wind cannot,

when the trees seem to be carved rocks,

and their buds burst into bloom like fireworks,

when the flowers split into color and scatter

adding new shades with the buds of the trees.

This moment is

exquisitely orchestrated.

Life stretches toward both horizons

The dog excitedly barks at children across the street

Wind stirs curtains, leaves

Spruce branches sway like green tentacles

Birds peel their old plumage and blow their flutes

The robin inflates its heart

Clouds coalesce and disperse like cottonwood seeds

Sky opens and closes its perforated maw

Hours are marked by color and the sun’s position

Rain falls

Horns blare

Sprouts greenly fork out of soil

Wind ebbs and flows

Flowers brighten

Each horizon darkens to be lit again

The birds rise first- Robin,

Dove- wake me each Morn.

They whistle- I find,

I am not forlorn.

gold sun could lock

an eye blink orange

lozenge of trees break to fence

green cones spindles undulate wind

black streaks crows in streams geese

meadows pale gold flat iron yellow

white teardrops splash pile

trickle trickle

away


Today I’ve written for you what has been deemed a “Language Poem”, popularized by Gertrude Stein.

The intent here is to focus not on the meaning of words, but the way they sound.

Rise

out of a blue sea

into scarlet light,

descend the marble steps

to a pool as clear as glass.

Sweep away remaining sleep,

find the jungle of fruits-

a bright feast.

Open mouth in a wide “O”,

loose a gust,

focus on the wash of yellow

shining through.

Flutters and twips float

in- vague- into the

temporary cage.

Gulls are Harbingers-

as much as Robins, yet,

not appreciated as part

of Spring’s welcoming Quartet.