the song somewhere outside
it’s not as if
it’s the city
tall and dark with
tall-building shadow
and all that
but there is a bird
that sounds real
brave
somehow
to be singing
over the risk of traffic
and I wonder
what it challenges
in song
perhaps to say there’s hopefulness
in town today
and I will represent that
for you
while I may
c l couch
photo by Evaldas Grižas on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
The Thing with Feathers First
x
Birds are odd
x
We like them for their
Feathers
And their beaks
And beady eyes
x
They peck away
For food,
Sometimes for shelter
x
They signal presence
And need
And declaration
In their calls
From their perches
Or flight plans
x
You see,
They know the seasons well
x
If we could listen
We might know more
x
They frustrate and inspire
Our need
To fly on our own
x
We might cherish the colors
Pinned to bodies;
We can make the colors
And so leave
Them on the birds
So we might complement
x
There is obsession
With the turkey
Once or twice a year
Over here
x
We breed them
So they’re not a challenge
Except to cook
And then to carve,
Which others
Might do
For us
x
We say it’s for the birds
Meaning silly
If not stupid
x
We ignore their smarts,
Their networks
On branches and on wires
Not to mention through
The air
x
In folklore,
Birds carry messages:
Bird-banders wonder
What they might be
Telling us
x
Why were we given birds?
As reminders
x
About freedom
In captivity,
The sad and mortal Earth
And those who only know the ground
So well
x
They teach us harmony,
Disharmony—sometimes
The savagery
In talons,
Sometimes the kindness
In community
Even survival
Glowing air
With song
Like litanies
For practicing our allegories
As all the notes rise
x
C L Couch
x
x
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
. . .
Emily Dickinson
x
Photo by thom masat on Unsplash
x
(I saw a picture of a flicker in the desert, pecking into a cactus;
my grandfather was a bird-bander for the government)
x
(x = space)
x
x
Flying, Creeping Things
x
I liken the bird
To the Holy Spirit
That flies with grace,
Usually
x
Often arrives
As a surprise
That on good
Days knows the wind
And all the stirrings
Of the Earth,
That often arrives
As shadow,
Serving
As prophecy
Anticipated
x
The Bible kind
Nothing marketed
x
We can aim
And shoot
And tear the metaphor
Apart
Or we can listen
Glossolalia
x
A song announcing
God is alive
In fragile revelation
For our sakes
x
Closely attend
An irony of notice,
Trampling the uncertainty
Doctrine or fear
Demand
With the way in
We’ve always wanted
x
C L Couch
x
x
Leviticus 11:21-22
x
Photo by Agustin Fernandez on Unsplash
Punta Alta, Buenos Aires, Argentina
x
(x = space)
x
x
Bird-Talk
x
It sounded like
The birds at first
The screeching of a
Saw outside
Maybe a leaf-blower
Blower, most likely
It being fall
But either way,
At first the narrow, high-pitched
Range bird-sounds might own
As if to say
Not only that I’m here
But also come here
Like the
First message on
The telephone
Watson, I want you
Or some such
Another day, another range
Of sounds to own:
These are mine
These are mine
(the utterances)
Where are you?
x
One bird
Lonely bird
x
C L Couch
x
x
x
(x = space)
x
x
The Bird of Alcatraz
x
There’s red outside
The leaves are changing
The sky is painted blue
Behind them
Maybe it’s a perfect autumn day
Not that the window panes
Are bars (I know better),
But there are so many things
In here to attend to,
And the meanness of the neighbors
Has an imprisoning effect
As well—I know, you’d think
It would drive me out as
Often as possible
x
Well, the car needs work
I could simply walk somewhere
I’m not feeling well
In my head or in my stomach,
And there are so many things
In here
I need the energy to manage them
How did so much accumulate?
Maybe it’s a consequence
Of being poor,
Though much of it came
From the work I used to do,
That was taken from me
Through jealousy
And worldly machination
x
Well, I’m here
I just exhaled
I can do that
Consciously or through
Human impulse
I hope that it continues for
A good long while
Along with the other part
(inhalation)
I’ll wait, eat, drink something
Then get up and go
x
C L Couch
x
x
English teacher note
The “Birdman of Alcatraz” is a person who became the basis for a book and a film.
x
Photo by Pete Nuij on Unsplash
Robin on a branch.
x
Reveal
I can see the shadow of a bird
Through the air-conditioner baffling
Maybe it wants to build a nest
It’s happened before
Hopefully, everything will last long enough
To bear eggs and to hatch
It’s all happened before
This will add a little tension
To already tense days
But it’s creation,
And I won’t be removing the air-
Conditioner for a while, now
For cleaning or what have you
And when I turn it on, the birds will be
Okay with the new noise
That’s worked out all right
As well, before
Oh, and so you know
I won’t be looking further
C L Couch
Photo by Dean Ward on Unsplash
Before chopping down one of the trees in our garden we did an inspection to make sure there were no nests in it. This gorgeous little nest was in one on the lower branches so it looks like the tree is staying.
Where Are You?
A single bird sings to the rest
I’m here
I’m here
I’m here
Come to me
I’m lonely
And I’m hungry
I’m here
I’m here
I’m here
I have this nest, you see
I’m here
I’m here
I’m here
And I must stay
Until they’re here
And then
We’re here
We’re here
We’re here
C L Couch
in part inspired by Leaf and Twig, https://leafandtwig.wordpress.com/, and the declaration of what birds sing
I heard a single bird, which was also inspiration
Photo by Wengang Zhai on Unsplash
We Can Play
A squirrel and a bird play
In the tree
At least that’s how it looks
And sounds
The bird flies up; the squirrel follows
The sounds of chirping and chittering
Sound friendly,
As if I’d know
Though I know the difference between
A purr and a hiss
Ears up or ears laid back
The growl that leads to the bark
So I’m going to call it
Playing
There is no better way to spend
An early morning
If you’re a squirrel or a bird
So let’s pretend
We are squirrels or birds
C L Couch
Photo by Rowan Heuvel on Unsplash
Eccentric Season
A loud single song out the window
For a second day I’m greeted this way
Whom is it calling?
I’d like to think it was me, but it must be
Another creature
Singing to to say hello, come over here
There’s a divot-space next to the air-conditioner
Might make a nice place for a nest
I guess this because it’s happened
More than once
That through the panel I can see bird-shadows
Moving
They come and go for a while
I should worry, and I do, that all goes well
While there is waiting for small, gray life
To emerge—
Usually, they’re gray—
To add their greetings to the day
And the days ahead
I think maybe I shouldn’t look through
The window, down so much at what’s going on
I can listen to some small cacophony
Instead
Life will emerge, and then the nest becomes
Useless, falls apart, not fit
For a sparrow
My odd season with the nesting birds is over
I’ll clear out what remains, maybe there’s
A crack of egg to see
I tried to bring the rounded twigs inside one time,
But they fell apart too easily
A sparrow wouldn’t want it
Such a fragile operation, all this is
To make more birds
Especially in a small space on the window sill
And my own sign in parts that at last the weather’s
Turned into a fecund opportunity
As the planted fields around the town
Will also show, certainly in
Wider, columned ways
C L Couch
Photo by Chromatograph on Unsplash
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