Spellbound
The blackbird puts in a song shift,
opens his delicate throat
to flute and chook his lyrics,
he flies to the May tree;
hips and haws shine an early spring show.
Crumbs are scattered on the path
crackling mealworms and grubs for ground feeders.
Goldfinches babble and chant,
eat fat balls, peanuts, sunflower seeds
by a water bath at the bird station.
Red and gold flashes chase insects in ivy,
tease teasels, thrill at thistles.
We bide here,
see a dormant hydrangea
doze by the spellbound oak tree.
Spring blushes the horizon,
the world turns; performs
calls and responses,
and the blackbird sings
sweetness in the wild.
