POEMS/ Nestlings
Nestlings
Red-winged blackbirds screaming around him,
I have watched the hungry red-tailed hawk
perched up at the yew’s tip, blackbirds winging closer,
hawk curling its talons fast on the branch.
I have felt the fear of the fleeing orioles and sparrows,
the desperation of the blackbirds battling for their young,
and have seen the striking of the hawk’s breast
by the boldest blackbird, the startled wingspread jump
of the hawk, his return again to his hunter’s perch,
sharp golden beak glinting in the sun,
above a placid ocean that licks the shore,
near the mudflats where tiny crabs scuttle,
yellow-lined claws tucked on their backs, their young
in deep nest holes safe from prying beaks.
I have heard the tide beginning to rise again,
seen the hawk still perched on the tree, still waiting,
whirlwind of blackbirds down-diving around him,
a toddler running off on the path below,
his parents following to catch and hold him fast.
From Migrations (Antrim House, 2013)
Red-winged blackbirds screaming around him,
I have watched the hungry red-tailed hawk
perched up at the yew’s tip, blackbirds winging closer,
hawk curling its talons fast on the branch.
I have felt the fear of the fleeing orioles and sparrows,
the desperation of the blackbirds battling for their young,
and have seen the striking of the hawk’s breast
by the boldest blackbird, the startled wingspread jump
of the hawk, his return again to his hunter’s perch,
sharp golden beak glinting in the sun,
above a placid ocean that licks the shore,
near the mudflats where tiny crabs scuttle,
yellow-lined claws tucked on their backs, their young
in deep nest holes safe from prying beaks.
I have heard the tide beginning to rise again,
seen the hawk still perched on the tree, still waiting,
whirlwind of blackbirds down-diving around him,
a toddler running off on the path below,
his parents following to catch and hold him fast.
From Migrations (Antrim House, 2013)
