more waxwinging.

waxwing perusing pincherries in the tree across the alley, feb. 28/09

waxwinging

i know i said i almost
could not write about them,
these waxwings: flocks too vast
burst through a camera-lens, ever
reeling graspless beyond my gaze –

(but they’ve swished into
this one, dripped a rain of red hail
all over the sidewalks, old peels
plastering pavement, clotted blood
on all the new snow

this morning) & the trees are
ripe with them, slick wingtips
& sleek fuzz, clusters of birdfruit
buzzing songless, sreeeeeeeing
like distant water, ebbing cold –

watch them with me.
watch them seek sustenance,
beaks full of bitten-lip ashberries;
watch them swirl slow & giddy
& sure, two flights merging

like a galaxy’s spiralling tendrils, dark
sparks weaving an undulant orbit,
a tornadic dancing; watch them pull
us warm into the breast of the wind
& the clutch of their birdskins,

the telepathy of wingbeats like
mouth seeking mouth with
our eyes closed, & i feel whole
feathers of us tear & scatter,
unknowable & never named –

(pull me close & kiss me.)
the waxwings alight, fluttering
aureole crowning an ash-tree;
(i touch you & we cry out.) they
disembark now, keening

as we come together: watch
a corona shine golden
on our avian bellies, light
pulling us resonant upward
through the shaken trails of sky.