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Poetry of Issue #8        Page 85


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