Listen to the Birds

a poem for the first leaves in spring, this week!

The prodigious wind doth blow and heartily.

Something is about to happen.

Listen, it calls to you…

bright from within the shining …

glistens, whispers, wet, alive.

Speak, but from the wordless place.

This wind outspeaks the loud roadways

outvoices birds, bells,

the ubiquitious chrome chimes.

Open sky above the field

echoes dump trucks’ rattle.

Overhead

high clouds line up,

booming by.

Dark over the lake, coming fast,

see the red-winged black-bird

hear the willow breathe –

windroar, punching branches.

This is the week, the day

it may happen--

the first leaves.

Listen to the birds, the robins, crows

Listen from the wordless place.

Something is about to…