January
i
The jays are commissars in uniform that rule
By evolutions ordinance. Its lesser birds
Survive haphazardly: the wrens are refugees,
And robins following the railroad south have veered
Toward destitution’s camp, where fields are deeply scrolled
And hushed by January’s harsh regime, and skies
Consolidate to cobalt under tungsten clouds.
A stenciling of dendrites drawn in photogravure
Has marred thee gray horizon. Now consumptive twigs
Display disease and poverty across its screen.
In drifts, the muffled trees like soldiers shake their coats,
Elbowed in bark as in gabardine, and the curse wind,
Rabbits fraying their cuffs, trailing threads away.
The valley shadows dust the snow with powder blue.
A crow concealed in arborvitae give the charge,
And thorns like firing pins repeat it, lifted limbs
Defy both weather and the order to submit—
A stand of minutemen, bareheaded, stamping for dawn.
ii
My father solemnly believed a God could live
Articulate in sumac and arbutus leaves;
That daily-witnessed death could be outrun
If once observed and written down. In sun, in rain,
I learned that duty and devotion are the same
When love and terror walk together. As the stream
Diverged, we stood on separate banks. He tried to show
Me where a red-eyed vireo might nest, the shy
Elusive whippoorwill might hide, but I could not
Distinguish anything except the wildest note
Of pity in their singing.
by Mellisa Green
from The Squanicook Eclogues
The Pen & Anvil Press, Boston, 2010
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D
D
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When I came to
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