Category: Birds
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Election cycle news
tidal stream reedy channel can’t decide which way to flow emptying and filling with the moon he shuts his engine off lowers a trolling motor sets the GPS anchored without an anchor tosses his net for bait hooks mullet through head casts his line and waits for supper to bite his lucky day the fishes…
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Two ways to eat poetry
1) Remove factory slices from plastic bag Be sure to retwist the tie to keep the rest from going stale Every slice the same thickness note uniform color and texture An occasional baked in void or bubble will drip butter on your shirt Enriched and fortified Easy to digest 2) Walk to a bakery Buy…
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chain link fence
She lives on a corner her back yard a chain link fence Walks alone each morning six times ’round the park Cocked arms pump right angles rapid short steps eyes ahead speaks to no one I don’t know her name Someone told me once But I am horrible with names and forgot After six times…
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Lunch at the deli
While cardinals flit bright in trees, Mockingbirds, robins and jays order lunch from a menu written in lines left in dirt from yesterday’s raking; Carolina wren waits patiently to bus tables when they leave 10-19-20
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The knock
2 am – knock at my window. It was not a raven or ghost of anything past. The wind had shifted and it was only the rain come calling in the night. I told Wallace Stevens to wait, went out and stood on the porch, wondered if my neighbors would be upset, if rain knocked…
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Laughing crow
sea gulls, feathered pickpockets, hover, swoop, dive, steal food and flee crow sneaks behind your back climbs into your carry-all bag chooses what he wants, walks away laughs at gulls and humans, eats supper in the sand 10-10-20
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Intercoastal waterway
above reedy channel birds soar eagle, pelican, gull egret and heron stalk on stilts silver mullet hooked through head cast again and again and again hope bigger fish will take bait at the dock flounder, red and black drum sit on ice Captain Curtis hands you fresh fillets feeds remains to birds and fish leave…
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Carolina wrens
An unruly mob of squirrels used to hold rallies in our yard but not for a while Maybe, it’s because of autumn or maybe, the feral cats or maybe, because I raked the pine cones in a pile the city carried away But I’m okay with that because Carolina wrens have moved in One sits…
My husband's poetry 