October 7

comments 6

Now it maddens me not
to know what bird
is making the call in
the dark.  A little
knowledge making
clear all that I don’t
know. What did it say?
Why did it stop?
And now begins again;
what is the story?
Fog before sunrise
electric and eerie.
I look in the cedar,
the waxy bay laurel,
find no feathered shape
to match the voice,
the morning is speaking
and I can’t see how,
only the blank faces
of houses, blinds drawn
across their eyes.

[wanted to put in some crazy lines breaks here, wordpress not cooperating this AM 😦 ]



    • Nope. If it’s not a woodpecker, chickadee, jay, or eagle, I’m pretty much at a loss. Oh, and crows.

      Glad the enjambment works, but the one time I decide to get all crazy with form, WordPress ix-nays it…


  1. Formatting poetry on WordPress is usually an exercise in futility. I usually quit fighting and let go. But it really hurts the nuances that breaks and stanzas make, I think. I know this little bird. I always wonder why they call out and then hush. The last five lines are wonderful. Where were your wacky line breaks?


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