We plan like architects
to bring the outdoors
in, parrot like realtors
the charms of a tree house,
for up on this hill, birdsong
is tangible. We always get
what we want, camouflaged
in our mossy cabin
high above the threshold
of discovery. Open sky. 360-
degree view. Proximity to water.
Reliable food sources. Plenty
of nesting material. Gravel flies
from under the foot of a rabbit
fleeing a resident eagle. Ravens
and jays battle over kibble,
shit bomb the deck.
They want in. Past windowpanes
that trick them. Frenzied.
Talons flashing, they enter
through a door in the firmament.
I guide them outside, stunned
at the feel of wing bones. Banging
hearts. A hummingbird goes
stillborn in the cup of my hands,
then, buzzers off, leaving a tang
in my throat, a ring
of ruby dust on my finger,
incriminating as pollen.
http://heatherhaley.com/
