A poem


As we stand before the window
in our private morning,
I reclaim the word
from all your past lovers

The sky stammers,
breaks into light, reveals
a palette of birds at the feeders:
blue jays, cardinals, a shock
of yellow finches

Our small world
sings its green vernacular,
its language of growth

Darling, I say
with the absolute trust
of the bird for its wing

A word-seed,