Furtherbird Poem

Sharp-beaked starlings dig the dirty drifts, searching for scraps. Flock
has rhythm, moving together, peek hop peck hop poke hop chitter hop
chatter, hoarde of small vacuums attacking the undersides of sofa
cushions, diving for loose change. Splayed tracks in the snow pattern
the shadows. Swing from the housevine, decorate bare branches like
temporary leaves as their birdfathers did before them. The arrangement
of black bird bodies on stark limbs are music notes, treble cleft
tangled below. The evershifting songs composed like this with the tree,
from moment to moment, accompany the wind in her rounds, echo the being
of birds.