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Passerines
Light dances and reduces spring’s snow.
Tiny white islands float in a rising tide of green.
The late spring sun carves charcoal lines of shadow.
What remains of the winter is no longer smooth,
but dimpled and wrinkled,
glowing with a million tiny dots of color.
Dew point: occasional snowflakes
float down — feathered parachutes.
Dots of refracted sunshine spin out from the sun-
powered crystals that turn in my window.
They cut through the heavy air that the hyacinths
weight with their redolence.
The soft white flowers of the cyclamen
respond to the dancing points of light,
the curved edges of its leaves soak up the sun.
Returning passerines jostle and shove,
greedy to approach the feeder.
They are random, like thoughts,
flighty, and totally untamable.
Grosbeaks
Light dances and reduces spring’s snow.
Tiny white islands float in a rising tide of green.
The late spring sun carves charcoal lines of shadow.
What remains of the winter is no longer smooth,
but dimpled and wrinkled,
glowing with a million tiny dots of color.
Dew point: occasional snowflakes
float down — feathered parachutes.
Dots of refracted sunshine spin out from the sun-
powered crystals that turn in my window.
They cut through the heavy air that the hyacinths
weight with their redolence.
The soft white flowers of the cyclamen
respond to the dancing points of light,
the curved edges of its leaves soak up the sun.
Grosbeaks, greedy for sunflower seeds,
jostle, shove, and push, to establish
their pecking order at the picnic table.
They are random, like thoughts,
flighty, and totally untamable.
Comment: What’s in a name? Change the birds and the poem changes. The same poem? Or is it? Does only the title change? I’ll let you decide. Do you have a preference? Please tell me.
