Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Bird Watching

The song of the singing bird
       directly over our heads
we arch our backs and squint
lean away from the horizon of reference
       and enter another world.

You jump and point – there! there!
       I stand at your back
       follow your arm, your finger
and there among the swaying leaves
       out on a branch
a gray breast of feathers
       covers tiny pulsing lungs.

The song begins again
       and then from a distance
       comes a faint answer
the breast swells and flutters.

We grab our book
search for a name for this
       but only find white pages
       covered with black marks.

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