Birds Like Us

I. SECRET FLIGHT

You migrate far from the trade winds of cities
far above the howling stream
of a horde not used to adventure.

You flee the flock
a murder of crows
the incessant chatter of a burning bush.

They hover over houses
longing for an easy meal
so fat and domestic in dinosaur pride.

They arm themselves with common calls
functioning as a mass of wings
which only map Yesterdays
and the compass frozen in another time.

You dance in thin air
the jetstream curve
to the unknown dome of a dark cathedral.

You build a nest in pubic hair.

You fly south using the map of your tongue
rain down upon the land to cast a drought of shadows.

I name the distant creatures
smell feathers in the wind
and the sound of a sinking sea.



II. SECRET SEASONS

--Spring--

The desperate arrive early
thin, hungry
wearing the ruffled badges of winter.

They claim certain limbs with frenzied song
singing in ecstasy the sun's return.


--Summer--

They put on weight,
rocks and worms to aid digestion,
spend long days between fat ground
and
tiny beaks upturned.

At dusk, some find the highest perch
to announce small victories
that soon will fly.


--Fall--

Leaves turn shades with frosted paint
and they seek the final fruit
follow the footprints of fellow travelers
whose frenetic feeding leaves behind

hidden riches overlooked.

They bury the berries,
store the seeds,
turn the treasures from sad trees to future fat.


--Winter--

Many have gone now
to follow the light.
Some have stayed
brave
too late
weak
or foolish.
They gather 'round the gaunt garden
picking at bones of perrennial plants,
scratching the hard earth for a moment more,
hiding from the wind, the shade
sharpening beaks on incessant ice.

The shadow of a hungry hawk
circles these futile fields.