News from the world

I have this need
To scatter seed;
That birds may feed
That birds may feed.
~Aucassin Verdé

Octoberalè

In the Atacama, wildflowers begin their trek up
steep canyonsides, seasonals that will last for as
long as they last. Hummingbirds in the Altiplano
weather the deathly night slowing their hearts to
survive through to the light-warming dawn.

Reptiles resurrect from winter torpor to
rake the Outback sand, sign their cursive
names in the red clay shadows of Uluru.
New eggs huddle in the birks of songbird
nests, settle into rhythms of motherfeather.



Here, where sea meets northerland, drought
rules the ground as it always does at this time.
Autumn blooms to begin the business of dying.
Jays and quail, robins and phoebes, sparrows
and tanagers scratch scree for scattered seed.

I watch through glass, summerless windows that
surrender all the sun has asked of them, open
now to grateful invitations of cooling air, the scents
birdmusic peppers from a score of limbs on breezes
that carry up vital news from the world beyond.

Joseph Gallo
October 21, 2014