Said with a dismissive tone, as if it should’ve known the sky was glass.
Tag: birds
indigo bunting corpse
indigo bunting corpse / in front of my door / shockingly blue
throwing his voice
throwing his voice so the woodstove warbles—Carolina wren
spring snow
forty blackbirds gurgle & creak in the ash tree
their calls must’ve changed
no hint of Canada now in these local geese
dead sharp-shinned hawk
only its inner eyelids have fallen shut
mares’ tails
a sharp-shinned hawk cuts through my trance