Blackbird 1

1. Notice

Blackbirds make public their notice.
Across the sky in flocks as thick as cloud
they say goodbye
and it’s winter as simple as that.

2. Cousins

Blackbirds and grackles, glad cousins,
amass in fields
like dark congregations
for corn
or, again, in trees
come together to gossip and fidget.

3. Explosion

I’ve seen blackbirds primed
to explode into air by the thousands,
swirl about like leaves,
curl down like tornadoes
into trees,
there swarm like bees
and await trigger happy
that ignites release.

4. Trolling

Each year flocks of blackbirds trawl,
hauling nets once in spring,
once in fall,
and with each pass pull
a train of collective anarchy.

They go and come in shifts
like workers just out from a factory
or perhaps like ships
convoyed altogether on the ocean
riding troughs and swells.

5. Blackbird Politics

In the fall, it's talk,
all strut about confabulation.
With quips they fly:
these tribes,
these equivocal councils,
this unformed nation.

6. Hello/Goodbye

I think of myself as a blackbird.
I don't know why.

There are times, I guess,
when goodbye is the best word said.

There are times when hello is appropriate.
Hell no! Hell yes!

I lie in bed
and whistle to myself “Bye, Blackbird”.