Tag Archives: birds

Blackbird

The hills have buried the day

in this nondescript dawn. Stillness muffles

even the language of sparrows in the hedge.

The paving stones are damp with dew,

and ivy shakes on the wooden fence.

Blackbird, where is your song?

–Excerpt from “Blackbird” in Edges by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag, Chicago, 2016). First published in Wichita Falls Literary and Arts Review.

The Cranes

. . . The high-pitched lunacy

of their gargled laugh

lights up the forest below

that has all but lost its gold

in autumn’s dizzying wind.

–excerpt from “The Cranes” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag Press, 2014).  First published in Soundings East.

The Cranes

We’ve met, by chance, some friends,

an elderly couple, he smiling,

she wide-eyed with dementia,

strolling the path through wood

and meadow. They cry, Look!

The Cranes, overhead!

Fifty or a hundred commas

gather in the sky as if

they do not know to what sentence

they currently belong . . .

–excerpt from “The Cranes” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag Press, 2014). First published in Soundings East.

 

Cardinal Virtues

On the top branch of the tallest ash

sings a wild strawberry

in the form of a bird —

cheer-cheer-cheer-cheer-cheer-

–excerpt from “Cardinal Virtues” in Hanging Like Hope on the Equinox by Donna Pucciani (Virtual Artists Collective, Chicago, 2013). First published in Front Range Review.

The Cranes

Fifty or a hundred commas

gather in the sky as if

they do not know to what sentence

they currently belong, and,

lacking syntax, wander so high

as to be almost invisible.

–excerpt from “The Cranes” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (virtual artists collective/purple flag, 2015). First published in Soundings East.

Blackbirds at Dusk

In the wind, which turns cold in late afternoon,

their iridescent ghosts remind us

that their conversation is untranslatable,

their love for berries and bark incomprehensible…

–Excerpt from “Blackbirds at Dusk” in Hanging Like Hope on the Equinox by Donna Pucciani (Virtual Artists Collective, 2013). First published in Lost Hills Anthology.

Blackbirds at Dusk

And so they come again this evening

to settle together in their favorite tree,

fifty or maybe twice that number,

the same black wings and yellow beaks

that lined the telephone wires last night

outside the hardware store . . .

–excerpt from “Blackbirds at Dusk” in Hanging Like Hope on the Equinox by Donna Pucciani (virtual artists collective, Chicago 2013). First published in Lost Hills Anthology.