Wednesday, September 5, 2012

On Setting Free That Feeling

 
 
Never-Ending Birds
 
 
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That's us pointing to the clouds. Those are clouds

of birds, now we see, one whole cloud of birds.

.
There we are pointing out the car windows.

October. Gray-blue-white olio of birds
 

Never-ending birds, you called the first time --
years we say it, the three of us, any

.
two of us, one of those just endearments.

Apt clarities. Kiss on the lips of hope.

.
I have another house. Now you have two.

That's us pointing with our delible whorls
into the faraway, the trueborn blue-

white unfeathering cloud of another year.

.
Another sheet of their never ending.

There's your mother wetting back your wild curl.

I'm your father. That's us three, pointing up.

Dear girl. They will not -- it's we who do -- end.
 
-From Never Ending Birds
 by David Baker
 
Never-Ending Birds: Poems
Buy it on Amazon
 


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Feathers and Flying Things #2

 
 
 

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