bald eagle

from the ridgetop pines
a long sigh

Vagabond

If I were a tree, head-down in the earth, I’d stretch one toe into the clouds.

aviary vulture

the unyielding bones
of its cage

felled on migration

the clouds in his eyes

a screech owl’s descending quaver

I forget who I am

fallen

bird’s nest of roots
nowhere to turn

rain still falling from the trees

wood thrush song

gray

fox’s leftover
junco feathers

no visitors

to track up my snow
mourning dove wings

this must be the place

the black-throated green warbler
is whispering

college town

even the old motel
is younger than me

where that heron used to stand

a painting of a heron