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APRIL IN LOCKDOWN

Late on a cold and windy afternoon
snow still in the air trees
still bare the time of the plague
after a long day at work staring
at the computer a month on
under lockdown the new sensation
face masks and enforced seclusion
I understand now the songs my father sang
only to himself under his breath
why he was afraid
felt the chill all year long
why he stopped going to memorials
my age moves across me like
the edge of dark on the Earth
from space you can’t tell
what we have done the destruction
the species disappearing before I knew
they were even here
the tired senselessness of it all
the coming dark the silent cold
massive moon lights the empty yard
I forgot why I was singing
“happy birthday” two times

  Gregg Weatherby__
__________

BLUE JAY

Woodpeckers eat fashionably late
at the feeder
the last of the oak leaves drift
down circling in slow motion

a blue jay lands on the railing
and calls out
we regard each other

it is November the first snow
and 25% of his species is gone

the snow mixes with rain
falls on his lost habitat

we regard each other
in silence

  Gregg Weatherby__

IN LOCO

There are worse places
to be inside any of my old apartments
in the city the only views smudged
sooty windows pigeon-filled
airshafts and garbage-strewn
back alleys heavy metal gates for shutters
no sun ever

here there is light and glass due east
due west views of round red maple
shagbark willow rising sun
and setting sun and birds
oh the birds I know some of them
by name now one female cardinal
at the feeder three times a day her mate
quiet in the tree mourning doves
three species of elegant woodpeckers
all in their black-and-whites
and little wrens

on the news the curve resists flattening
who would have thought in the city
reefer trucks are used for bodies
no sound in the streets
in the Spring rain in the burning bush
shelter in place

        Gregg Weatherby__
______________