A Poem: Waiting for the Birds
I can sit like a stone thing.Neutral, still,against which the wind moves. Can wait until everything openingappears underfoot,or through the bows of outspread branches. Or I can walk,not quite expectant,but ready anyway. And not trying too hard to discern directions.But seeing what comesof corners and thresholds. Yes, I can walk like a figure moving,beckoned forwardby … More A Poem: Waiting for the Birds