Grandfather built birdhouses

Cedar shavings scented winter days

Skies empty of south flying transients.

Corduroy pants seat, held in arm

Pages turning; he recited names

Incantations. Calling back warblers

lesser yellowlegs, purple martins,

Living in watercolor extravagance.

Green springing forth in admirable tenacity,

Hands under wool sweatered armpits,

I peer into the homes of birds,

Where they’ve nested in apple trees

Abandoned orchards, light fixtures, porch gables

And cedar birdhouses that hang


In our woods.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s