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Poem

AUTUMN BIRDS 


 

Heading home, toward the sun; 

its long drawn-in breath of twilight, 

sucking the last gasps of birds 

toward its mouth, 

 

I glimpse a flock of sparrows,	 

gathered up in squalls 

to forage the last bruised fruits of summer, 

 

and know winter is approaching. 

 

Waves of starlings and ocean spray  

sparrows,  

splashing across the sky, 

gust like the rib of a wind sock, 

a white sheet falling  

upon winged chairs, 

saying time has come to head South. 

 

Seeking comfort among circles, 

when the weather turns 

and daylight dwindles, 

they gather at dusk, 

 

With cropped wings, bank the air 

then swoop down to roost 

like the evening’s frost  

condensing on the trees. 

 

It is the ebb of Summer,  its last glimmer; 

The sweeping undertow of geese 

carrying shells 

disappear in the dusk 

and are swallowed by the sun, like a river, 

 drowning every echo from our mouths. 

 

 
John Tansey

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