Classic Poem

Some small bird out there —
a titmouse I think —
saying chee-ew chee-ew ... Likely
it is not at all sad. Likely
it is just that none answers
so the call is alone there
in the whole of the morning
with its faint up-lilt at the end
that would make it a plea, if
you or I said it: where-
are-you, where-are-you , or
is that not my love out there
in the breakers, that brown speck...

I like how a bird's cry
has no parts of speech
but is speech itself —
and is not about anything; no,
everything else is about it. Listen.

Sun blinding on snow

bare limbs

an enigma

a solitude