by Bill St. Cyr
i have a thing about birds
they come unbidden
it is a thing my dad did not get
maybe it is a thing i do not get
a flash of red with black wings
not easily ignored
and yet i know
that others do
do i catch them in my peripheral vision
or do they catch me
as if this is not enough
they come in dreams
waxwings and eagles
hawks and herons
i lie of course
that they come unbidden
i know the place that bids them come