A Green Breath for Robin (from the journal)

Carolina wren made a home in the wreath—
mosses, leaves, a cupped space
that moves with our comings and goings,
a space for eggs, for sitting, for waiting,
a front door home. 3-31-12



Bladdernut’s pale yellow bells
add weight
to the sunny morning. 4-2-12



Little green wings on the
upbeat, hickory leaves
aflight in spring. 4-2-12



Pink cherry
bursting with its own edibility,
flowers on the tongue. 4-3-12



The birds don’t mind the gray sky.
From all sides they speak
liquid colors. 4-4-12



Pale clusters of new maple seeds
shimmer against the pale gray sky,
The ivory light stays to play. 4-8-12



Here and there crab apple’s
last rose blossoms color
the rusty tree. 4-14-12



The widened portal,
the eggs gone, left untended,
a snack for mockingbird, blue jay, crow? 4-15-12



Here they are
moving across my morning table—
leaf shadows. 4-24-12



Eye level with honeysuckle’s rows of flowers,
meeting at nose level hummingbird moth,
a pair, looking for just the right one. 4-30-12



The wild geraniums
found their way back this year—
fragile, pink, determined. 4-30-12



Up and out—the springs woods,
over thought and hope,
a green breath for robin. 4-30-12