THROUGH DREAMING NIGHT
Cold though the north may be, the white-
throated sparrow will not leave
her icicled heights. The red-headed woodpecker
has found a supportive community. The tree
swallow pours gold liquid out her mouth, where other young
congregate, to drink of her, and to worship. Most days
the chickadee goes around introducing (and
introducing) herself, except
in the spring. Nobody speaks of what happens
to the chickadee in the spring.
With lifted brow the red-eyed vireo begs
for attention: Look up. Over here. See me.
The white-throated sparrow mourns for Sam Somebody
or other, a private call of unrequited love.
On the other side of town, the great-
crested flycatcher is followed home
from the bar again. And the black-throated
blue warbler knows the next few months
will be difficult.
The verdin asks us to see, simply.
The red-breasted nuthatch
plays a tiny tin horn.
The days of shiva end
for chuck-will’s-widow but still
she calls out nightly her own forgotten
name. The water pipit will not eat alone,
not since. No matter
what she says, do not trust
the eastern meadowlark. When a song breaks
your heart, still
you keep that heart.
The cactus wren catches a train
out of a dark silk night.
The chestnut-sided warbler is having another fit.
The yellowthroat throws bones
and prays for her friend. Liquid is the veery,
breezy, ethereal, wheeling
downward. MacGillivray’s warbler wants sugar
sweeter. The sage thrasher, ecstatic,
he wants your touch, don’t
invite him to the potluck. The yellow-throated
vireo went straight back to the casino
and put it all on 38. After too many false alarms,
the fire department will no longer respond
to the indigo bunting. We must keep her safe.
The house wren scolds, then stutters and gurgles,
a rising musical burst, falling
at the end. The chickadee says “chickadee,”
but in the spring, when all the leaves
are sheened and heavy, and the morning air
tosses across the sky like a yellow ribbon,
she calls forlorn the name of her lost love:
Phoebe? Phoebe? The phoebe
barely recognizes herself anymore.