Birdsong
Nov 11th, 2011 | By Daniel Patrick Sheehan | Category: Poetry | 322 viewsIt was morning enough.
The finch assumed its place atop
the ornamental cherry
to warble in nine notes
what sounded
like begging:
Come home. Please.
The raven’s shriek
was purely existential,
a cracked yawp
on a bedrock of anger.
These arguments with God
happen inside, too,
but are better suited
to the trees
which swallow the dawn-
light in their crowns
and out-glow cathedrals.
Later, the cardinal made
one piercing chip
of hail or alarm
from atop a green umbrella.
He seemed
to be the sane one,
setting the questions
of love and existence
aside for mere survival.
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About Daniel Patrick Sheehan: I'm a journalist in eastern Pennsylvania. My poems have appeared in The Brooklyn Review, Two Rivers Review and Mudfish. Feral Press and Prehensile Pencil have published limited edition booklets of two of my poems. |
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