Tag: nature

The Bird Didn’t Care

The bird who dove across
Hwy 34 exit toward downtown
New Haven — the interchange
New to the interstate that
Flies over gravity’s expectations —
The bird who ignited herself
From some hidden nest to climb
In tandem with the cars over
The harbor marsh lands. This bird
Who fixed her sights on some
Distinct treetop in a still
Sweet corner of land someone
Forgot to backhoe under, this
Bird didn’t care for Swedish
Meatballs or which ninety road
Leads north, actually. The bird
Dove, left wing down, across the
Cement chute that tossed me
Into the next rectangle
Hour of my day, and
Disappeared like smoke.

— from the road

Waking Up To a Thunderstorm

There’s reasons to get up. The
Have-tos, especially, drag me
Out of bed, and the little voice
Chirping from the other room. There’s
Reasons to untie myself from the
Sheet: my own needs and the
Dog’s. And sometimes it’s good
Enough reason to escape
Bleached linoleum dream floors
That I was pacing, searching
For a missing friend.

But this morning the call
Came from the barometer
Falling and rain pattering
On the hard plastic a/c case.
Crawling from sleep,
I pulled on my storm chaser
Habit and tossed back the
Blanket. I checked the
Time, counted the stairs,
Touched the screens to
Tell which direction
She came. Then I
Drew up a chair
By one open
And waited.

Between the Morning Trees, You’ll Find It

I try to try harder. To look under
Heavier rocks and inside murkier
Metaphors. But the grey of morning
Lifted her head and said: oh for
Heaven’s sake, sweetie
. Stop trying to
Interchange my mountains and
Molehills. Instead just have a look
Between the morning trees and

You’ll find it:
It’s there, if only you move your
Head a just bit. There. A tongue of red
Cloud in the summer sky. Listen:
Even the birds have stopped
Chattering and turned to look.

Don’t try so hard, she said, and you’ll find
Joy everywhere you go, in every
Sliver of the day, if only you move
Your head just a bit.

Life Sentence


Here are my hands, pulling apart the arms of the
Berry bush, to find this little blue planet.
If I don’t take you now, sweetheart,
You are dead. I see your little sister
Squashed flat in the hay under my
Baby’s Keen sandal. So I’ve come out here in the
Wednesday morning to give you
Your ending. I might drop you in the
Box or just as well eat you right now
But what difference does it make?
The answer to your question isn’t in the
Planting or the weeding or whether or
Not that tired farmer sprayed you
Undoubtedly with Roundup. By the time
The Berry Ferry comes full circle to
Fetch us and the rest of the harried
Mothers, here you will be, come
Full stop at the end of your
Life sentence.

Once We Cross Over to Pennsylvania

Once we cross over to Pennsylvania
The land returns to my father;
Hills blasted apart then coated with
Soft green allegheny down.
Shadow makers crawling across
The blue sky in pipe drawn
Huffs. Thin bridges dangle
Semi trailers above a river trace.
A now-you-see-now-you-don’t
Hex flashes a mysterious smile
From the red barn passing.
Pheasant mutters wilkommen under her breath.

Then good pine friends like all of us
(Older than we ever expected and barer)
Lean against each other as
They pass a day again
Inside this great, dark forest
Beside the interstate.

— from the road

You are Alive

I heard a drop of rain
On that rhododendron call to me:
You are alive.

This minute, and only this one.
You may grouse at yesterday or
Pine for tomorrow but only the
Perfume of now exists. You are
Alive in this one breath,
In the bend of light which
Turns this petal pink, alive
In the exact desperate push-pull
Which holds me onto this
Silken flesh, you are alive,

Drop of rain on the
Rhododendron called out
To me.

That Loose Girl

I drive along Whippoorwill
With humming girl strapped down
In the grey Honda hulk
Of metal and plastic and
We pass the 14th fairway of
A country club to which no one
I know belongs, and it’s so early
That the only player is
An arc of pressurized water
Iodized by the sun and
Falling on bluegrass.
And it isn’t
Water I see, but
Myself I feel,
Washing down,
Transforming for one
Time-shifted second
Into that loose girl
Who did
Carry nothing but
One bag of wood and metal
On her back and felt
The expanse of
Spring like a
Long walk on
Ignorant grass.