October 2, 2024In the Arboretum
I tune my guitar
to the bird who sings in almost E,
the one with almost perfect pitch
while counting 1 & 2, 3, 1 & 2, 3.
This is where it spends the season,
hidden in the leaves, I suppose
having sex with he’s or she’s;
I’m not sure of the species.
It’s brown and lives in trees—
here I play en plein air,
not practice ornithology,
and it’s summer everywhere.
Other birds in reds, and yellows,
go from A-flat and end in C,
and often chirp a bit off key.
Crows sound like there’s worms in their throats
and the piccolo bird is a blabbermouth …
but it is summer, after all!
It’s just the usual rehearsing
with flutes and brass of passing geese.
Now the woodpecker rattles a drum roll
and applause rises from a breeze
which brings the forest to its feet.
I play Romanza, by the infamous Anonymous,
and the bird who sings in almost E
repeats his phrases 1 & 2, 3;
Duets for Guitar and Woodland Bird,
Opus 8. All rights reserved.
from #85 – Musicians