Reading poetry when a bird is born in the towering oak

   

what I love more than a gathering of words
is a gathering of poets who choose to listen 
to each other as birds are born
in the mighty oak towering over us in mid-july

where we all are in our struggles-
what's key is to be free and easy
with ourselves- while birthing, sweating
poems as prayer

as other natural labors persist
like one precious pearl jammed cargo
trudging seamlessly- with soft strains
of janis and jimi, and the jefferson airplane

a solitary sparrow chirps in the oak,
while a few blue jays obnoxiously
let out a single vowel-
a note held for far too long

as if forever clung to each note,
surely getting closer to a resolution
freer than malted barley

now exceptionally quiet
hushed, harboring no guilt
grinning, forgiving, moving on



kjl
7/9/19