Confessions

I sit here, like my robin there,
watching the geese overhead
in their socially aware V
pointing all together and chattering
in honking gasps of glory and gathering.

My robin looks up,
head cocked and eye a-glitter
and wonders what the hub bub is all about…
and also wonders why she sits,
alone and remaining
as the wind grows chill
and the sky grows grey
and the air grows still
as the more social birds
gather up and leave together
on soft grey southern wings.

Didn’t we used to all trill and honk
and tweet and cheep together?
And I came everyday eager to the yard,
to flit and look for bugs and worms and seeds…

but now?  As the leaves have left
and the geese are leaving
and the cats still lurk in black slashes
of slink and dash and calico camouflage
patterns against the browning grass?

I really don’t understand
this community thing
when I show up
everyday in the yard,
but worms taste
wriggly and gritty
without any company.

Maybe the high rock raptors
had it right all along,
maybe solitary unconfinement
was better than that
surface social refinement?

And then the robin
swells her breast with breath,
quivers behind her black bright eye,
and takes wing to fly,
and make her moves
around the growing absence
in the winter neighborhood waiting
until the spring once again
brings those members in the moment
noisy and social, and hell bent
on the seeds and bugs of the verdant yard.

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14 thoughts on “Confessions

  1. I love this so much…I love every word of it. I also have a kinship with red birds. I will share that another time. This is about you and your beautiful poem…One of my favorites of yours. ….Now it is me who is crying. Thank you, Sister in words. ❤

  2. “And then the robin
    swells her breast with breath,
    quivers behind her black bright eye,
    and takes wing to fly,
    and make her moves
    around the growing absence
    in the winter neighborhood waiting
    until the spring once again…”

    You do fly in a V.
    A smaller V, yes, sweetie.
    But a V, nonetheless.

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