He showed up on a
Sunday (I remember my
Portuguese, Sunday=Domingo)
And began to sing.
He sings of doves in lower
Terraces and bushtits in hedges.
He sings of hawks in high
Distance and a lazy cat --he makes
All their sounds, announcing to all
Birds this is a good garden to nest in.
He is a virtuoso --his opera includes
Survival-- and the birds come.
There is nothing medicinal in
His art of reciting himself
But he helps other birds decide,
And he makes me feel good.
I call him Placebo Domingo.
"Bravo", I tell him. "Bravo!"
Because of bunnies
And squirrels, she
Built a scarecrow
Today and draped
It purple in wind
To send out royal
Edicts snagging sticks.
They flutter, they defend!
We come from piscine
Astronauts with a desire
To explore atmospheres
More rarified --equate
Progress with higher
And higher flight.
There are times though,
Admittedly, when
I miss my flippers.
She sent a photo from the
Fenceline, captioned,
"Squirrel stealing almonds."
A leap to judgement.
I know this squirrel.
60 years ago my brother
Told me a story about
A squirrel named Benny.
I fell asleep, but ever after,
I called all squirrels that.
Benny's mother lives in our
Woody End and eats plums.
Benny needs protein.
Almonds are expensive in
Stores but free on our tree.
He has no money and
That's all right with me.
Third space up the staff,
A single note, word or chord
That is life --a dove recites itself,
All it need say-- and peace
Sounds to me like a panpipe
C, but there's something more,
Something added to the score
That is the dove itself.
No sneering dowager.
No randy gardener.
No butler who
Never does it.
I did not
Make the rain!
No old diseased
Colonels creeping
Round in the sun.
No mystery:
A leak and
Caulking gun
Suspended between
Heaven and earth.
No mystery, me.
Here, you,
Me --we seek
Causality-- composed
In antiquity
And antiparticles
Shot from the
End of time, events
We climb and close.
Some things
Are impossible
To find on purpose.
Others, equally
Marvelous, find us.
