Monday, June 21, 2010

The June Poem: "Solstice"

It's another bird poem of course. This describes something I actually saw today--a large but immature bird, its wings undeveloped, covered with whitish fuzz but for the black spots around its head, apparently unhurt, and seeming to be looking for a way into a great old stone church as I happened by. And since all this took place on June 21, I'm calling it "Solstice."

Featherless half-grown stranger,
fallen from who knows where,
your webbed ungainly feet
flip-flapping on the granite stairs
of a downtown church, you hop
to the great oaken doors
as if expecting them to open--
not a chance. Mottled,
gawky, determined yet dazzled,
your madcap prancing
before the intransigent gates
seems cause enough to silence
even the traffic's roar.
I scan the lofty steeple,
then the placid sky beyond,
in search of a frantic mother.
Nothing. Then turning back
I see you wobble earnestly around the corner
as if to try the side entrance--

some dorky angel messenger
carrying your startling news
to a deserted church.

2 comments:

n. davis rosback said...

much to see in this.
the end really sends me a message.

John8com said...

Very nice, Bob.