This is how it begins –
Flip lip lip-lip-tiptip-CHIDIP.
Intensify with vocal chords
that sweeten the ears
of that choosy ground nester
and a woman with binoculars
around her neck.
He perches on top of the world –
a little distant
but close enough to hear and see
and amaze the jack pines
that surround him.
Yes he can fly when I
merely walk.
His wings dart upon air
while I stumble along
paths and roadways,
some taken, some neglected.
We have different diets,
alternate breath,
chords that mesh with noise
from myself, ringing
from his beak.
Perhaps we vary by a molecule
or two.
Our DNA hedges on
iceberg or leaf.
We are life itself –
no coincidence
where we came.
Swing of life
you exceed the circulation of branches.
When we save the Kirtland
we save ourselves.
6/2017
Anne's mediocre poetry 