feathers (2)

I am a waxwing.

There were crows on the neighbors' fence perpendicular to the street where our carport leads out.
      Crows all lined up
      A murder of crows
      Crows on the murder
I tried a slow ten-tekka-ten
      and they got wise to me and regrouped in the big tree in our neighbors' acre-size backyard
          Which is okay because if they'd stayed
          Any car backing out of our driveway would've had a murder to contend with

I stare at my feet
feathers whirling about
      Never lifting to fly
      Skating across the delicate skin of my feet
      now bare
          where are my shoes
      never staying still

I open my mouth and try to say that
      maybe there's something we missed
      maybe there's something we actually forgot
      like air
I open my mouth to the sound of braying
and then cawing
The crows caw back

I close my beak.
I am a waxwing.
I can sing.
      I sang for you
      most of this time
      where is it now

I am a mourning dove
      no
      not now
      i can't be

The berries on the rowan tree
      don't need to sing
      for me to know how sweet they are
I just need to know if it will make any difference
      if I fly there
will they still fall from the branch
I had a mighty hunger once
I flew all the way to Britain once
      where is the sweet

Don't let this be
Another two months
      of my own noises
shaking twigs on branches
enough for all
the fruit to fall

-Dana Winter