Margaret remembering in summer season how they’d fly
into her hand, black-capped, black-masked,
bobbing one birdseed at a time—I keep in mind
in chilly Amherst how they’d fill the lonely feeder
simply exterior the kitchen window, particularly
when the ice combined in with snow would slap
the double glass, shake it a little bit, and begin to sing.
One wearies of the chic, the nice deep factor,
the red-tailed kiting hawk sliding down the sky
to make the kill, the sky itself altering by itself,
depth of feeling depth of discipline. Margaret sitting nonetheless,
items of the solar falling within the shadows throughout her,
whereas my vivid chickadees are braced towards the wind,
feathers fluffed, every of them so small I might wrap one
in my fist to maintain it heat, alive, then abruptly gone.
All winter within the snow depths simply exterior you reside
in separations made from glass—I’d by no means have
the endurance to carry out my hand and wait out
a fowl, no matter how stunning the climate.
Stanley Plumly’s posthumous assortment, Collected Poems, will likely be revealed in August 2025. This poem seems within the Might 2025 print version.
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