“The bird names have trapped me. They exist in a realm of unsolvable mysteries: the realm of nothing more than connotation. And yet I want to know what the bird behind each looks like. Why? I shouldn’t care.”
Winter Trees †
Feline huntress, dozing on the grass.
Along the fence, a cortège of wary sparrows,
each dark face a funeral card.
On my lips, imagined bird names:
Shwittl, Tikipap, Pikit …
farewell, farewell
winter trees.
Poems, Slightly Used, March 4, 2009
† In memory of friend and poet, Brian Salchert (1941-2010)
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Categories: Poems, Slightly Used
Tags: Brian Salchert, Dreams, Memory, Pikit, Poems, Poetry, Shwittl, Sparrows, Spring, Tikipap, Winter
