9.

by Donald Brandis

at half-light early spring birds are in full song
voicing a delicious freedom fresh as seasonal produce
in market stalls from distant fields
a vocal gesture to imagination, freedom’s forecourt
several voices high up left and right
small strident sounds perhaps to each other:
found some juicy bugs over here!
perhaps just venting:
those crow squawkers kept me up all night!
the day incoming brighter now but still unformed
eludes the mind scurrying to box it up
like lines of old days shelved in a garage
their cartons slowly fading and wrinkling
even these are evasions; no time accepts our keeping
each and all walk away from us shedding our dream songs
our morning’s take means nothing to the day
shouldering in big as Texas on steroids
the birds have it right
here is the day unmade!
the boxing mind relents to watch and listen
as a vanishingly singular day rising in mist and light
slides over and around our notice
hearty powerful and enigmatic
as a breeze from yesterday morning’s lake came
scented with cedar and pine