On Taking Turns

Our spring bird’s about to be sprung. But often, before she has sung, that rude man called Summer struts in like a bummer and belts at the top of his lungs.

Mourning Dove

A thump of rumpled rupture splonched upon the pane a shadow smear where feathered head collided with the traitor mirror. – It lies in crumpled feathers, struggling to move it’s wings of kaleidoscopic gleam splayed out like ruined broken things. – A rush of birding talons a hawk in beak and wing snags the […]

Cardinals Come

Cardinals seem to congregate in crowds when clouds are slated gray. When all the world’s a weary wet or dripping droplet water cold the cardinals call and strut their crests till the sun climbs out to day. – – – Photo by Brian Forsyth: https://www.pexels.com

Startled Snow

A boot’s free-fall crunch! Swiftly from the evergreen a red cardinal hops.

The Dabbler

He dabs and bows his head, a dapper chap who cheeps about each day to twit and feed. He flaunts, and hops and leaves without a map. – Some weeks it seems he left or took a nap. But soon as hope he pops around for seed, and dabs and bows his head: a dapper […]

The Little Bird that Flies

The little bird that flies beneath the puffed up sky owns the gift of life and the pleasure of God’s eye.

Reflections

That bird’s reflection seems to wave and wing from other worlds a ripple fold of ancient hope and crystaled good (though far away)

Feather Step

They skip by tripping over water extending beaks like legs in dance, then twirling upward on the windsea borne along till touch again – They twist in wind gusts, dip in wave troughs beaks catch darts of silver sleeks. freespin breezeward, riding wing sails. Sky swirl dancers of the sea