For the Birds

The way to notice
absence is to be present—

the spaces are magnified,
the holes gaping in the fabric

torn out of a past
that drains away without mercy.

Can it be sailed, what is gone?—
tossed about like a ship,

capsized and righted again—
battered but rebuilt?

And you may ask:
where do crows fit

into this story? What wings
carry the journey through

the sky that belongs rightly
to hawks and other birds of prey?

What galaxies call to the air?—
waves rocking them

with a cosmic rhythm
gathered in fury?

The starlings remain
landlocked—the city streets

For the Birds

compete with pigeons and sparrows
but do not replace them.

Do they belong here?—
or will they always be immigrants,

spirits that linger
among the natives until

they too have forgotten
there was anywhere else to go?

The wind travels everywhere,
disregarding all borders and walls.