Return of the Juncos
for Rick Waldau, bird photographer Taking the tape off versus putting the tape on, holes in the feeder-bottom feed. There on hoof-printed snow an unhanded sprinkle like freckles on peeked cheeks. Even as branches release morning each falling seed has a story one which ends in a beak no longer forced to peck at the frozen feed once above in a broken twirling feeder. A return means they assist one another not to starve helping the hole to allow millet and kernels of corn, the face at a window, witness to what hands can provide. Sometimes the night's ice prevents an appreciated view, each opportunity to observe becomes a smile, reason not to feel winter is against eyes a brief series of moments, simple belief in the fluttering or rewards a chirp may leave.
The Meaning of Amazement
I witness a return, the miracle happens: actual honey-bees are really back! The first of the flowers imitate the sun. Drops of rain in the ear, morsels of eventual understanding.
Chad Norman lives and writes in Truro, Nova Scotia. In 1992 he was awarded the Gwendolyn MacEwen Memorial Award For Poetry, the judges were Margaret Atwood, Barry Callaghan, and Al Purdy. His poems appear in journals, magazines, anthologies around the world. A new book, A Matter Of Inclusion, is now out from Mwanaka Media & Publishing.
See Richard Hanus