Tag Archives: birds

Sparrows

The sparrows
finches
chickadees—
all of them know
his kindness is reliable
even when, especially when
cold, frost and snow
cover their world in difficulty—
they know where to find his love
poured into the feeders
outside his windows—
they taste it in the suet
he prepared and stuffed
into the vacancies
of a fallen cedar
to give energy and sustenance
to wings of all colors
that flicker
like his memories
of a different landscape
a different decade
when he met a girl
who flew in for a closer look
and spread her love over his world—
he soared so high
it took him a long time to land
and by then she was gone—
so he keeps the birds near
to remind him how it felt
to be weightless—
and every morning
the sparrows return
and every evening
they fly away
and take with them
small pieces of his sorrow.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
1-29-18

“Snow Birds” by Andrew Wyeth

Sporobolus

He was just
a little bird
caged
in your love
for 13 years
by accident
because
he ended up
eating the
prairie dropseed
outside
your window
and you knew
he wouldn’t
last long
without
some kind of
domestication
from which
he must
have escaped
so you
lifted him
into your life
and
when he died
you felt
your feet
leave the ground
as if Sporobolus
was trying
to take you
with him
but you were
too heavy
for his wings
and you
crashed
onto the couch
in tears.

 

 

 

DeMaris
7-13-17

Waiting Room

I am not impatient this time
waiting for my turn
to lay back in the chair and open wide—
there are children whispering loudly
and bells dangling from the door
announcing everyone’s exit and entry
but it all goes on without me
like the volume is turned way down
on just another reality TV show—
I am lost in yesterday.
I am full of the heat that followed us
into the woods and I can only hear
the song of the warblers,
those black and white ones
who provided our sound track
as we kissed on the fallen hickory—
and after I am rattled into alertness
by the sound of my name
I’ve got nothing to do for 15 minutes
but close my eyes
and let both my hands rest on my belly
while I consider where you’ve touched me—
and I don’t even need five fingers to count
the number of times we’ve made love
but in this noisy and populated darkness
I am alone with your body
and we are filling up our hands.

 

 

 

DeMaris
6-12-17

 

 

Hummingbirds

 

No one thinks
to themselves
how awful
when these creatures
fly at each other
with violence
in their wings—
with slender beaks
nipping snipping
fighting for the nectar
of the honeysuckle
and columbine—
we accept that survival
is a good excuse
to be greedy,
and because
they are beautiful
in their
metallic green dress
and wine colored collar
we forgive them
for things we humans
could never
get away with—
especially females
who aren’t looking
for a long term
relationship
but want to be
impressed into bed
for just one night
of spectacular sex
with the partner
of her choice
without feeling guilty
or worried about
the violent judgment
of the righteous—
who most likely
have imagined
what it would be like
to be that audacious
and that brave.

 

 

 

DeMaris
3-11-17

Lovebirds

 

You are
the little bird
with your wings
spread in a modest
and tentative display
singing a song
so quiet
the others don’t
get close enough
to appreciate
your splendor—

I am
the little bird
who flew in closer
to admire
the way the light
illuminates the color
in your wings
and I can hear
that the song you
started singing today
is just for me.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
1-26-17

For Her

You were in the right place
at the right time
and offered him a sweetness
which he accepted cautiously
and optimistically—
and now, years later, you have him
all to yourself on the trails
and on the water, and even
in the air when you travel to
California or Costa Rica—
and you get to study his mouth
when he says words like bloodroot
and loosestrife and chokecherry—
and you get to see his joy
when the brown thrasher
keeps singing even when summer
has come to its end—
you have a bird’s eye view
of his mission and his passion
and you are allowed to curl up
beside him in the nest of his bed—
but I envy nothing about you
except your proximity to him—
to a creature neither one of us
will ever possess—
and when he wants to fly away
(he will need to fly away)
I hope you’ll kiss him goodbye,
softly, and let him go.

 

 

DeMaris
12-15-16