Birdsong after rain

2004-05-18 028.

The best birdsong
comes after hard rain
when severed tree limbs
drip green gelid water,
car alarms clash with
keening ambulances in
spongy air. There comes
a pause. Then birds
never noticed cry across
my body from the window
like cold air, washing
my mind with their lives.
When I was young, their poem
would have demanded writing:
Now it floats, can be or
not be, like their songs.

– w. marling

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This entry was posted in Boy Wonder, landscape, Ohio, Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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