Sunday, May 24, 2020

Yard Life

I’m grateful for the hummingbirds that haunt
my backyard—hover, shimmer, zip and zoom
around the window of my writing-room.
I’m grateful for the jays, although they taunt:
(they always have) they spark azure like scraps
of sky among the shrubs, like lapis grains.
I’m even grateful when the crows complain
about the joggers, masked and running laps
around the block. These days confined to home
I hang my hope on these familiar things:
the sprint of squirrel, flash of emerald wings,
the slinking neighbor-cat who loves to roam
my yard. They move. They move, is all I need
to see and hear, until the day I’m freed.

Books Available
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside

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