The Birdwatcher Poem by Anne Higgins
The Birdwatcher
The Birdwatcher
Consumed in the sunshine
of a field full of loss,
riding the gusts of memory,
I call to my sorrows,
elusive warblers
who reply
from the tall grass,
occasional flash of gold,
cedar waxwings
calling from deep
in the green glen.
They're the ones I want to see.
I scorn the more obvious
pigeons and starlings
who scavenge
at my feet.
Saturday, January 21, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: nature
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5/2/2024 4:10:56 AM # 1.0.0.1119
