On Writing

Poem 182 – Rise


Up with the early bird,
I watch her tug a plump-shiny
worm from the wet summer earth.

At first, standing still,
the red-chested ave feels the
underground vibrations of
the worm. She can hear it
slithering in the dark mouth
of its moist dirt mansion
I call backyard.

I watch her pull & bite & hold
until the annelid is in pieces
in her cheeks. I wonder where
her babies chirp in wait. Did
you know a robin can eat
up to 14 feet of worms in
a day? That’s two six-feet-unders.

What else can she hear?
Whose voices? What secrets
do the worms belly over,
curl under? What translates
when the robin listens?

Oh, all is being revealed.
Up with the early bird,

the past rises –

I’m on the first of a three-day writing retreat at Gertrude’s Writing Room. I’m feeling…contemplative, excited, nervous and grateful. My writing partner and I are feeling the space, the park, the sounds, the energy…more to come! Keep writing and reading friends. Be kind.

3 thoughts on “Poem 182 – Rise

  1. “What translates when the robin listens? “ I love this! Indeed, what happens when any of us “ listens”. Are we now listening to our Indigenous sisters and brothers ?

    Can you even imagine the horror of both your children being “ taken” , gone forever! I think of those mothers , those families, often. There is no doubt that this was meant To be genocide, so the government could take all of the land! And, the Catholic Church ran 70 percent of the “ Schools”.

    Sent from my iPad



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