Return of the warblers

holloway overhung with ancient trees n Cornwall
This entry is part 79 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses

 

Mayapples are coming up:
green parasols shedding
the soil as they open.

A coyote trots across the road,
looking back
over its shoulder.

Above the trembling surface
of the vernal pond,
the first warblers’ buzzy songs.

Earth Day

holloway overhung with ancient trees n Cornwall
This entry is part 77 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses

 

The sun comes out
in the middle of a shower,
too high for a rainbow—

unless you imagine
the bird’s-eye view:
rainbow against the ground

and off to the side,
the radiant field lines
of this magnet, Earth…

Blue-headed vireo

holloway overhung with ancient trees n Cornwall
This entry is part 76 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses

 

The soft notes
of a blue-headed vireo
lure me away from my desk.

Night’s dust on my glasses
turns to a veil of gauze
in the noon-time sun.

The stench of manure
wafts up from the valley.
The vireo snatches insects from the air.

Sleight-of-hand

holloway overhung with ancient trees n Cornwall
This entry is part 75 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses

 

A chickadee in the garden
fills its beak with thistle down
and flies off to its nest.

I take a closer look:
that’s no down, but my own white hair
from last month’s haircut.

A spring azure butterfly
lands on the blue gravel road
and disappears.

Walking onions

holloway overhung with ancient trees n Cornwall
This entry is part 70 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses

 

The phoebes across the road
carry beakfuls of mud
into their nest.

Planting onions,
my thumb- and fingernails harvest
black crescents.

This summer while I’m gone,
the walking onions will re-plant themselves,
head-down in the dirt.

Empty

holloway overhung with ancient trees n Cornwall
This entry is part 69 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses

 

Just after your departure,
I find half a hummingbird nest
and an old broken crock.

The sun comes out.
A fly circles the lip
of a purple crocus.

The kestrel hunting meadow voles
keeps returning
to the same electric line.

Lotic

holloway overhung with ancient trees n Cornwall
This entry is part 68 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses

 

A winter wren darts low
over the rushing stream
and unwinds its hurdy-gurdy song.

Not all water-lovers
are bouyant in the same way.
The waterthrush walks

on the bottom, tail bobbing
as if spring-loaded. We stand
dripping in the rain.

Migrants

holloway overhung with ancient trees n Cornwall
This entry is part 66 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses

 

The field sparrow is back—
that rising trill spilling
from a small, pink beak.

A yellow-bellied sapsucker
taps a ring of wells all around
the bole of a hickory.

You nap on the porch,
ears open to the creek and other
migrant tongues.

Rain date

holloway overhung with ancient trees n Cornwall
This entry is part 62 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses

 

It’s the first petrichor of spring—
that musk the soil gives off after rain,
strongest when long delayed.

So who wouldn’t choose
a day like today for dancing?
Side by side, cackling softly,

the two pileated woodpeckers
hitch their way down a tall locust tree
all the way to the ground.


For a fuller description (and pictures) of this unusual pileated behavior, see Rachel’s blog post.

Old field

holloway overhung with ancient trees n Cornwall
This entry is part 61 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses

 

Most of the goldenrods still standing
at winter’s end are topped
by the empty habitations of wasps.

Dried half-pods of milkweed
cluster three to a stalk,
a Baroque superfluity of arch and wing.

From the woods, a drumming grouse
reminds me what real wings can do—
that accelerating heartbeat.