--------------
That robin on the topmost point
Of the luscious spreading maple,
Stark upright in the June-blue sky
With his warrior’s red-blaze breast,
Lazily
mutters a disjoint
Song
having discharged his stapleTask of feeding the shrilled “I, I”
Of his young; stood down, he can rest.
Lower,
crazy-active starlings
Tug cherries from the cherry tree;Its serried leaves like drooping tongues
Pant in the swelling morning heat.
Frantically
clinging to gnarlings
Of
string-thin branches those birds gleeIn fruit, hanging like drunks on rungs,
Wings clattering like rain in wheat.
Lower
again, chink-voiced tom tits
Crowd into fresh forsythiaLike scraps on the wind; voracious
For greenfly they trapeze into
Every
angle, living on wits,
Heads
blue as the banked aubrietiaBelow. Abrupt as loquacious
Panhandlers they flee on the hue.
What
a chirograph of being:
Above,
the sparrow hawk seeing,Below, the dowdy wren fleeing;
All sustained by light agreeing.
===============
©
June 2014