Once Again

There is an accustomed spring tapestry

That has now renewed its threads

As it does each year

When the days are the perfect length

And the air is soft as baby's breath.

One patient starling

Sits on the branch of the oak

Crisp silhouette against the western sky

Close to the nest

He has faithfully been building

All afternoon in the high oak.

Thick bouquets of dried grass

And whatnot pinched in his bill

Disappear behind the trunk

Of the brown un-leaved tree

Into some hole or V.

The osprey, the two,

Both together in their majesty

Proud on the snags of the dead tree

Close to the edge of the river

Overlook their scraggy nest

On a platform above the water.

The setting sun catches

Their snowy breast

Making them seem proud

And more self-assured

Than they actually are.

The bluebirds are in

Their usual spring disarray

Flitting to a different bird house

Each day.

The males, dashing and arguing,

And determined to win

Even if blood is drawn,

And the females looking lovely

And coldly distant

In their pale patient colors.

The chickadees pick the smallest

Of the bird houses that remain

And scold me often

When I weed beneath them

In the late afternoon

As the sun turns the sky peach.

The cardinals sing

The strongest song of all

And perch in the stark leaf-starved trees

Like alien rosebuds

Fat from the winter feed.

All is ready for

The grand first act.