[This is the bird hour]
by Charles Wright 19This is the bird hour, peony blossoms falling bigger than wren heartsOn the cutting border's railroad ties,Sparrows and other feathery thingsHoming from one hedge to the next,late May, gnat-floating evening.Is love stronger than unlove?Only the unloved know.And the mockingbird, whose heart is cloned and colorless.And who's this tiny chirper,lost in the loose leaves of the weeping cherry tree?His song is not more than three feet off the ground, and singular,And going nowhere.Listen. It sounds a lot like you, hermane.It sounds like me.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Because I've Been Thinking of Birds...
(photo: Wired Magazine)