(Here is my official return to focusing on So Many Fishes, a collection I am trying to finish by December. Thanks for reading!)
I can hear my blue jay screech and
my robins twirl whistle.
I can hear my red-bellied woodpecker
assiduously hammering in a tall, thin Sassafras
and my newly discovered clutch of Tufted Titmice
pete-pete-pete-ing away while
and some ardent Purple Finch
who is all about the business
cyclone trills
from the branch of an old oak.
And there, behind it all,
on this clear, early summer morning,
I can hear a surprise gift—
the long call, a deep mournful note
waving over the cool air
as somewhere distant
a train announces
its arrival into town.
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