She notes how the days
have grown shorter.
A cacophony of grackles
near a cornfield fills the air.
A farmer across the road
walks along his field
checking his corn before harvest.
Leaves rustling
in the wind sing.
The construction crew
has passed her driveway.
She asks the flagger to
help her daughter across.
The school bus arrives
late afternoon. Lights flash
She rushes onto the porch
and hugs her daughter
who wears a backpack.
The mother notices
the sky is gold
as she looks out the window
and cooks supper on the stove.
Her daughter sits in a chair
hands folded on her lap.
So good to see her daughter
she thinks after letting go
in the morning and waiting
for a late afternoon embrace.
for Wake Me Up When September Ends Contest
Sponsor: Daniel Henry Rogers
They’re in conversation
with a crisp breeze as it sings
about the summer lost.
The proud sun colors skies gold
but shadows grow long.
not much is said
but they know
something’s changing
Once young, they cling
onto branches but know
one day they will take
their last breath and fall.
a song
about passing days
lingers in the air
Frantic calls of grackles
stir the air as they land
on branches before a swirl
of them cloud the sky.
the cacophony
interrupts
tranquility of the day
the passing sun whispers
and at dusk skies bleed
leaves surrender to time
Men away from home
tear away asphalt
like thick skin
and replace.
Work proceeds
sunrise to sunset.
They bear the heat
of a summer day.
Their bodies ache
but they move on.
The rumble of land
disturbed stirs grackles
from field. They take
to the sky seeking freedom.
The workers inch up a hill
as traffic crawls by
in the open lane.
The workers remember
their wives and children
back home and long
to steal a few moments
during the weekend
and see them again.
They lingered.
The freshness of Spring and Nature calls
even to Mr. Grackle does love befall
His feathers shine in the sun's gleam
a purple hue of a metallic sheen
To look his best his black feathers clean
in his bill grabs an ant for anting
Rub those feathers with the bug
it's formic acid removes parasites snugged
Now the courtship begins to ensue
through the air sweet female he pursues
rivals fly to intervene
but Mr. Grackle's skill keen
For she follows him her cove
shrieks and eeks their song of love
to and fro their singing goes
like a rusty gate the sounds flow
Feathers fluffed and puffed
each knows they got the right stuff
they settle in nesting hatching their brood
in a community of grackles for neighborhood mood
Mr. Grackle proud with a nest pristine
for grackles keep their home clean
At night the Grackles do a communal roost like no other
a million grackles with friends those numbers shudder
The old boy now living the good life
for Mr. Grackle got a wife
I found myself
struggling for a sounding board
between the sandwiches of lunch,
dinner, and savory understanding.
There are birds between
songs.
They sing resoundingly
better than me.
I ran by a pond at dusk
when no one was looking,
but little me, who struggled to see
meaning where the colors
separate for separate
identity.
The common grackles
grackle to be heard,
like all of us with a working pulse,
arguing at the end of a day.
I signed my signature tonight
for a loan I don't understand.
There are things bigger
and smaller than me,
ants and fireflies,
that challenge infinity
and confuse the calmness
of understanding.
I will go home
and try again
tomorrow.
"Winter breath flutters to an exhilarating dance on nostalgic moments, giving way to beauty."
Quote by poet
The bursting sun, a flower of gold radiance,
An idle footprint of time. A sweet, warm, healing
Friendship, spiced with the rhythm of nature's affection.
It weaves perfection upon longing hearts and souls.
Brightening the world, toying upon the window.
Spun frozen dewdrops glisten under the sunlight.
A walk in consolation, about hopeful fields,
A rebirth exhalation to marvel and sigh.
Rainbow shimmer of magic grackles and ravens
A perfect partnered dance on naked tree branches.
Leaves in downward whorl upon the latent carpet;
Cheerful, awe-inspiring as squirrels wobble through.
In the depth of the night, a concerto commenced,
With drums of thunder and a melody of rain.
Wind flutes played loud sniveling notes,
Carrying pulsating tunes in blustery tones.
Streaks of lightening, with their baton of light,
Led the blasting orchestra with dynamic might.
Trees swayed wildly, leaves scattered with force,
Rain soaked the paths, shattering dense shadows.
As dawn tiptoed, with the sun’s gentle caress,
Melodic whistles, cheeps and croaks took the stage.
Blue bonnets danced, greeting butterflies and bees,
Jays and cardinals capered under the radiant trees.
Hummingbirds frolicked around the buds of paintbrush,
Grackles called out in an enthusiastic rush.
Scissor-tailed flycatchers hovered, tails unfurled,
Charmed their mates with their squeaks and chirrs.
Pinkladies and Firewheels in their spectacular array,
Welcomed the day, luring pollinators their way.
The storm disappeared, giving way to a tranquil zephyr,
Joyfulness prevailed, in awe of Mother Earth’s endeavor.
Silvan black
Come the grackles
Shimmering blue streaks
Darting toward the sound
Of bird song glee
Bullies
In Zorro garb
Storm the bird feeder
Black darts
Flung at swaying targets
Challenging
The squirrels reign.
Sparrows
Root for the stalking cat
To strike
Leap high
A streak of red
Upon the sylvan black
'News' may simply be
an acronym,
North, East, West, South,
Space-time continuum
Headlines capture minds—
Imagine the water cooler buzz
if the front-page news was:
"A Plague of Grackles!"
"A Murder of Crows!"
"A Conspiracy of Ravens"
"A Parliament of Owls"
Bird's-eye views of
All that's news!
Start with words
pick up their sticks
make a now-man.
No eyes yet,
maybe the garden grackles
will peck out some.
Life at this hour needs a password.
There are boxes to tick, negotiations
to be made
with an ill-defined self.
It's morning already
the sun is glaring blue
on the hard silent snow.
Going to need a key that perfectly fits
a gated community,
a playground, a parking lot, a dog park,
any door that opens
all those dark spaces hidden inside
unlit clouds,
and at this time
there are no further
instructions
available.
Grackles snap at the thin snow
seeking frozen worms.
Balloons of light pop in a chill sky.
A marmalade cat sneaks the hedgerow
fur low in the snow whiskers sparkling.
Hawk cries grab our attention
high up we are spotted, some targeted.
Grackles, cat, and the shadow of my coat
scatter sideways sketching frost-ghosts
on warm breaths.
The summer has thickened,
it has turned the hare into a dervish,
the raccoon to a pantomime villain,
made mice sing in the beaks of owls.
The woods are bare now
trees rattle, grackles cackle,
blue Ice chimes in the deep freeze.
Witches flirt and flit
They have skeleton corsets,
they ride upon racks of lamb.
Their mousy, grey moon petticoats
are tattered by thorns.
By December the land crunches
under tread, the snow creaks
like a an unearthed catacomb.
Reckless children are lost
In the rumors of dark folktales.
The year turns, tinder burns,
lovers remember an inner climate
where limbs blush
when kissed by a kindness
as soft as sunlit rain.
Now and then, and yet again,
clouds circle a bright fanlight
of sky.
Seasons return only to sail
on by.
Grackles
I rambled along a city street
Going nowhere with no one to meet
When I espied grackles in a tree,
Stretching and heckling between the leaves.
Purplish-headed, black-feathered beings,
Perched on the branches, stately and free.
Undaunted by my drawing nearer,
Their yellow eyes traced my demeanour.
And when I stopped to observe the plague
While standing ‘neath the foliage shade,
They dropped to the ground and hopped around
Searching for bugs and seeds to swallow down.
Other birds in the vicinity,
Colourfully dressed and singing brightly,
Flitted about but could not drown out
The grackles’ cacophony hereabouts.
Their corny antics invoked my senses
To marvel that such creatures existed.
And as I continue my dreary way
In this world of bland human display,
I think of them enjoying the summer,
Filling my heart with spirited wonder.
And I chuckle to myself by chance to see
Grackles basking in tall broadleaf trees.
This week our play at self-distancing and living amid a pandemic became real. Before the empty shelves and cancelled events were annoying but we had sufficient toilet paper to last a good while and there was Tiger King on Netflix. Then too the reduced traffic and cheap gas were unexpected bonuses although there was really no place to go.
But the news of the deaths at a nursing home in Ontario’s cottage country and the tweets this morning from people who were unable to be with loved ones as they died, and then faced with a ceremony less cremation or burial have brought the stark face of mortality too our doorsteps.
Meanwhile life goes on, it’s a beautiful sunny day outside and as I hung the laundry, grackles were busy building nests in the cedars and the first snowdrops and fall garlic were poking through the soil. The garden will need clearing this afternoon and life goes on while life goes on.
Be well and stay safe.
Birds seen flying together in large flocks tonight
Words of warning sounds emit as coos and cackles
Herds of cows start running toward the barn door light
Blurred together as a murder of black crows and grackles
1/15/20
From my poem " A Terrifying Night" written 1/13/20
Contest: Arbitrium Divisa 6 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Gregory R Barden
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