birds – tinywords

winter mist the scarecrow’s heart a nesting sparrow

Five minutes before the alarm — birdsong, birdsong.

Hidden by the fog, mockingbirds and wrens sing maps outlining the trees.

sunrise- all at once birds leap from the water

mockingbird an octave shy of the moon

a solitary bird calls to the space between lightning and thunder

towpath— a blue heron shifts the twilight

recession rising from the factory stacks five small black b i r d s

sunrise from village to village a rooster’s crow

migrating geese rising out of my chair

dusk– ten thousand blackbirds and no place to park

in the pool of the ruined resort the wild ducks

park bench pigeons begging the homeless man

dead birds at the base of the lit skyscraper autumn midnight

juncos black silhouettes in birch trees notes on a tangled clef

owl?s call sounding the depth of a winter night

snowmelt… a woodpecker thrums into thin sun

winterlight a blur of birdsong in the air

drizzle and mud– sparrows sinking deeper into drab

up to the summit up to a hawk’s cry up to the sun

waiting for the sheep to pass a skylark's song

a swallowtail touches my fingertips— warrior pose

perched at the tip of summer red-winged blackbird

in the park pigeons peck in front of empty benches

flurries of willow fluff seven ducklings scatter among the reeds

how casually a brown bird catches a butterfly in its beak and flies away

it happens every year but still the woods filled with birdsong

the skip of a skipping stone alpine swifts

Grey dawn climbs the sky bird over bird.

where creek willows weave the sunlight ducklings

migrating geese— wind flaps the scarecrow?s empty sleeves

how do they manage migrating geese taking only their shadows