Bird Haiku

wet beach sand—

a sandpiper’s song

of footprints

under the eaves

a barn owl’s shadow

another

          the silence between us

a quail finds its way

     through the underbrush                                  +

the kite’s tail

ripped from knotty branches—

mockingbird song

the gull’s cry—

     the shape of the wave

     before it curls

taxis in a line

at the county airport—

migrating geese

the day after Christmas

a flock of sparrows

lands in left-over trees

stopping on the footbridge

to gaze at still pools—

a sparrow’s wings flutter

still water—

the blue heron

steps in the moon                                               +

summer afternoon—

the worm in the robin’s beak

still twisting

squawk of a jay—

walking sticks left

at the trailhead

spring birdsong . . .

unopened the longest,

the heaviest present

sparrow at dawn—

how slowly the light changes

with the song

shimmering sun

     above the river an osprey

          circling

open sky . . .

the wounded call

of a snow goose

New Year’s Day—

a team of seagulls

on the wet infield

morning bird song—

my paddle slips

into its reflection                                                                     + +

morning sun—

frost melted

where the robin pecks

landing swallow—

the ship’s chain

dips slightly

jays squawk

from redwood tops—

the hush of distant traffic

heron stepping

through the reedy marsh—

the billboard’s shadow

hummingbird at the window

    —my blink

           startles it away

hospital room—

the crane’s flight

through the wallpaper

full moon at midnight—

a barn owl glides

out of the slaughterhouse

first snow—

the random tracks

of Canada geese

first glimpse—

white swan

in the forest pool

first flakes . . .

the curve

of the snow goose’s neck

distant train . . .

in the morning mist

the loon stops paddling

distant church bells . . .

a sparrow’s breath

          lost in the holly berries

distant birdsong—

a small leaf falls

down the back of my neck

cool summer night—

        a full moon

frames the bird feeder

cloudy day—

a magpie squawks

from the sundial

clouds of pollen

drifting through sunbeams—

a sparrow’s sudden flight

beneath the moon

the heron’s slow step

towards frog sound                   +       +

apple picking—

a feather blows

from the empty nest

an old woolen sweater

     taken yarn by yarn

          from the snowbank

as it flies off the cliff

                                   the folding

                                   of the sea gull’s feet

a white swan shakes her tail

at last the ripples

reach her mate

a robin’s song     the next hospital bed now empty

a meadowlark’s call

amid a flurry of leaves . . .

the woodpath turns