Barbara Brooks, Author, Poems, Poet, The Catbird Sang, Hillsborough, Orange County of North Carolina, Finishing Line Press.
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The Catbird Sang
by Barbara Brooks

STREAM
CLEAR CUTS
HUNT CHILDREN
THE CAT BIRD SANG

THE STREAM
Snow laces branches and melts
in the stream that slips
between shaded hills.
Quietly, it slides
past trout lily and snakes
around remnants of shattered
stills. Winding its way
through running cedar,
it passes the ivory
remains of deer season.
Snow softens the landscape
but cannot cover
the bared ribs.


CLEAR CUTS
The red shouldered hawk finds no poplars
over which to court his mate, no oak
in which to nest. Sun will not be shredded
onto the forest floor. Black poll warblers
will find no pines to glean for spiders,
the towhee and turkey, no leaves
hiding acorns and pill bugs.
Sap hardens on stumps.
Sunlight burns the uncoiling fern
and trillium's subtle bloom.

HUNTING THE CHILDREN
The Great Egret,
lord of the lagoon,
snakes among the reeds.

Head tilted,
the plumed hunter
stalks forward,
unblinking.

A baby duck strays,
huddles between
cattail stems.
With yellow bill,
the egret spears
the duckling.

The mallard hen
clucks to her brood
while the egret stilts
to dry ground.

THE CATBIRD SANG
and mewed from the weeping
cherry for its mate who lies
on the trimmed Bermuda.
Its tiny body lay beneath
the raspberries, black cap,
wing slate gray, feathers
dribbled with red.

The catbird sang
until dark.

 
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