SKEWER

Life’s line-up is delusional – on a skewer.

When the “ONE” step aside the number’s fewer;

But the adult male Goose doesn’t think like a ruler.

The goslings, exposed, create a fierce maneuver.

To the adult Geese those small goslings are LUNAR.

The line-up doesn’t mean squat to a sincere user.

It’s what’s in the heart that counts — a fact none truer.

 

(And the Goose honks its displeasure at human interference.)

 

 

 

THE TEA PARTY (building a nest)

“I’M LATE; I’M LATE, for a very important date…”

The colored tatters of his jacket rippled in the wind.

“I’M LATE!”

She grabbed hold of his arm.

“I’M LATE!”

“Wait.  Take a deep breath.  In. Out.”

…And the Starling flew up underneath the roof’s ledge edge, disappearing into the hole.

“I’m LATE.  I’M LATE FOR A VERY IMPORTANT DATE!”
“Wait.  Breath.”

The Starling slipped in an out of that hole several times that day.

(Starlings wear a tattered gold vest underneath the black feathers.)

“I’M LATE!”

I wonder where the Mad Hatter left his chapeau. 

Listening Is Almost A Physical Exercise

Within the crowded tree limbs I heard the Blue Jay’s dirge.

Concerned, I yearned to console, but where [there] was the perch? 

In the mornings, a multitude of birds warble –

like gathering elusive jewels, a garble bauble.

BUMP, Thump, jump, a bird’s beak is like a hammer

on my windowsill, assertive consuming manner.

Rain and warmth encourages flowers to blossom

And birds respond in kind, a chitchat so wanton.

REMEMBERING

At dusk this coastline’s quiet; there’s a lull.

We sat on a flat rock – pretense, beach hut!

While we ate, there’s a crash, angels from above.

They’re hovering, fluttering, white Seagulls.

They fill the air; they want food – WHEEDLE!

 

… except for the one gull who walked back and forth

in front of the of the crowd, beak bent,

barking nonstop, almost regal.

 

Him I feed.

Pick up!

 

“…Remember: two wrongs don’t make a right.  It takes two wrongs, a shin kick, and a prank phone call. (Maxine)”

SIDEWAYS SAGA

As the careless youth dropped crumbs the Crow ate ‘em;

…Pink Panther Logos on the white truck.

Gray Mockingbird perched up high, diadem –

Hissing at the Crow whose plumb out of luck,

chased from the nest, the Mockingbird’s helm.

The Crow cawed, complained, what a schmuck –

Proud puny Mockingbird went home — nest, its stem —

as the Crow ate those crumbs beneath that truck.

HAVEN

…Beautiful Bower Bird builds a bed, birthing center, a nest woven from long grass and sticks, an opening like a vulva – green leaves, food, a cape laid down to entice the female bower bird into her bower,  private curtains hung so to speak…

— Like living on a small island in the middle of the sea, “it may not be much of a kingdom, but show me one with a bigger moat

I like it when the Bower Bird lays down the blue flowers, welcome home my lady.

 

bowerbird_great_purple

Sharing Space

Corner of the eye, fine point, “stylus” –

I saw bird shadows, wings, feathered mileage,

flying up to the roof’s corner, the edge.

Why are the Starlings dancing on my ledge?

Shuffling through this House of Cards,

I found the small hole, a discrete hiding

They’re building a nest, Yippee, Hooray!

A Starling yanked at the grass, a shyness

in its movements as it carries

“thread” in its beak back

to the hole to build the nest.

Sounds of Silence;

Otherwise they’ll leave.

So I remain mute

In my ecstasy