A Woodland Lesson

I hold, in my cupped hands,
an Ovenbird. I picked it up
from our backyard deck this
morning. I must have collided
with our glass, sliding door . . .
thinking the reflection was an
opportunity to fly into the
clear blue sky. I will keep it
for a while, then bury it in
the perennial, wildflower
garden.






                   A  Woodland Lesson

        An unregal,
                   diminutive creature
                          bearing a subdued,
                                        orange crown -
                          quietly walks along
                                        on forest carpets.

            And,
                   when ready,
                           incessantly
                   calls forth loudly -
                           to whoever
                                 might give heed,


                             Teacher,

                              Teacher, 

                                         Teacher.