Bird Songs


Through the grated mouth yawning
a warning against trespass, up trembling
slopes with unsure footing and exuberance.
No water thrills the rocks as no light
thrills the trees but the impending rain
and the ardor of it all are their own reward
as each bend unveils the foliage
crystalizing in weeps. And we don’t say
a whole lot because of a mutual awkwardness
but nobody appreciates silence much
these days. Especially not the road
with its growling tires. So it’s back
the way we came pausing for a smoke.
Quick puffs of paranoia infringing
the sanctity of this particular trail,
stuff pipe in my pack wondering
exactly what it was that gave
                         these birds their songs –

-r. miller


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