Just experienced a plague of grackles
On their way to Texas and Florida
Countless flying through the woodlot
Landing in trees and on rooftops
The air creaking with grackle-calls
The flight of dozens of black wings
Their shimmering iridescence
The bronzed and purple ones
With the sun in their eyes
Like they’d come from night
To turn the earth in flight
Their energy and abundance
Rousing me to change and delight
Birds
Praise of the Purest Air
Between song sparrows, catbirds,
Waxwings, orioles, and red-eyed vireos
Spring has blossomed into sound,
With birdsong so spirited and alive
You’d think it a religious revival,
Save that these spirits are innocent,
They have real feathers and sing
Of the purest air praise can promise.
Married to an Indigo Bunting
We can hear him, but we can’t see him.
His song is so happy to be alive
like he’s kissing the light of his song.
If you do see an indigo bunting,
your brain turns blue, and you take flight.
My wife does a good indigo bunting.
She’s great with birdsong in general.
Ducks will follow us down a canal.
It always make me laugh to recall.
She kisses the light of being alive.
Salvatore Ala 