A liquidity moving *

A finch sits on the sunflower’s open face
as though this globe is its world.

I’ve been working on a poem for Jerry for our anniversary. Two days ago, I noticed that a lot of the poems I’ve written for him over the years (and we have been together many years) have featured birds, mentioned birds, or had a metaphor leaning heavily on birds. Well, they lend themselves to poetry; you borrow from beauty you see and know. And then there are birds.


So many birds fill the poems I give you as though the even fluttering
of years is actually wingbeat, soft whispered flutters brushing close,
hurried songs in the long days.

Then yesterday I took a pause and was working on something for the Bambina’s birthday (no spoilers, you may keep reading 💓) and discovered a few flat cat pictures on my camera and also this gorgeous finch on the sunflower’s open face.

This was taken a few weeks ago. The finch was not giving up the flower and gave me time to get my camera, change lenses, and move about the yard, what a pro. A surprising moment. And I’d forgotten it. But not the movement over the world.

Imagine living/like this: flower to flower in the bright/day.

Yesterday a squirrel was out in the same location molesting a bird feeder, gnawing into the feeder and then squeezing into feed. Jerk.

                                         
I get no respect in the yard since I relocated the flat cats. The jays know more peanuts were available when Olive and her brood were here. The squirrels knew that the bird feeders stayed almost exclusively in the backyard and were much easier to access. The cardinals, oh the cardinals, didn’t sit outside the bedroom window in the morning and complain.

I miss them too.



Ada Limón , the new US Poet Laureate, has a lovely poem that features a ground hog, I love these lines:

“…a liquidity
moving* all muscle and bristle. A groundhog
slippery and waddle thieving my tomatoes still
green in the morning’s shade. I watched her
munch and stand on her haunches taking such
pleasure in the watery bites.”

Such pleasure in the watery bites -- ah! The poem is called Give Me This and is available on the Academy of American Poets website.

Well, this is one of the things I’ve been doing between downpours and heat waves. Writing, and reading poetry while also thinking of those who have been flooded and damaged and lost. Watching COVID deaths go back up. Trying to stay safe and keep others safe as well.

Thanking Kansas.

Wrapping some small gifts for the man’s birthday which happens very, very, very soon and watching the birds. Making notes. Listening.