About Birds

I can’t stop writing about birds

and I am sorry, but if you can look

at beauty without fear of gasping

then maybe it’s not beauty after all.

It is okay to admit that Darwin’s logic

might have been flawed: the fittest survive

but do not live. Where is their morning

song? Their hum? I want to congratulate

birds' flights, their landings, the way

they confetti in cartoons—all celebrations

deserving of their own light.

And I know the world does not need

another bird poem, but I have seen

how things are breaking.

And I know a bird poem won’t fix

anything, but sometimes

we must take a moment to honor

bones born to be hollow,

unlike ours, which have just been

scooped out over time.