Ninety-eight degrees and a grosbeak
looking in the back window; nine AM with no way back
from dreaming when the solid world
alights on a branch so slender
it bends to the will
of the sun. A scene directly from
the spirit world: a mixed flock
leaving mountains behind
gracefully scattered, grouped in such
variety the light could not identify them,
they winged with dusk
in sight and pulled a tree
uprooted, branches held by beaks,
with majesty across the sky.
Waking on the flyway,
migration beginning, waiting
for monsoon thunder
while daily highs climb from
seeing to distraction and
the orange flash of one
bird among the many
on their way
pulling sunshine up by the roots.
.
David Chorlton
Picture Rupert Loydell
.