poem

 Birdsong

My favorite birdsong in the morning 

Goes fwipp, fwipp, fwipp, fwipp, fyooouu

You don't even know what I’m 

Talking about, do you?

You’re not here

In my frosted dawn.

If you heard it you’d probably 

Spell it differently, 

Maybe you’d hear an “r”

Between the “f” and the “w”.

That’s all we’re doing here

Writing poems

Chasing after winds 

Trying to stop time.

We listen, we pay attention

Then try to get some of it down

All the world is just birdsong,

Beautiful sounds happening

Inside our own heads.

Maybe I can get you to start listening too

Who knows what you’ll hear

Maybe something different

Altogether, maybe the bird 

That goes bee-yuuu, bee-yuuu, bee-youuuuu

5/1/22