Poetry

grackles

return early, swing rusty cackles

through the nip of spring, bully real-song

swagger-guard their hedge, mafia-like

lord it over the sparrows and finches

gather for secret, hooded meetings

bold as brass on the driveway, cabals

fermenting even in courstship their wings

cupped like black-market bootleggers

Psst – wanna buy a watch?

beady eyes greedy in the scattered birdseed

plotting nests and babies and god knows what

Between Equinox and Solstice

the wind across the prairie

hills mouths promises

a lover wheedling forgiveness

for absence too long

the short-grass hills and I wait

craving touch, wrapped

in the desires of those

twined here before us, seduced

by the wind plucking memories, scattering

their warmth between equinox and solstice

Spring