all the birds took a break for a day
boycotting the streams & the baths
downtown sidewalks & window ledges
unmistakably absent from the airwaves
instead quietly tucked away for some
twenty-four hours
collectively testing the theory that these
so-called humans
have ceased paying attention
october two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
listen carefully
the birds in the air are many
and you’re missing so many of them
in another life you were
a cardinal or a crow or a sparrow
going about your fabulous business
as if there’s no tomorrow
but of course you don’t
remember those days other
than a song or two or three
that for some reason keep
challenging your long term memory
tomorrow it will be monday
which means you’ll be fishing again
casting your line at lock & dam thirteen
and forgetting about the past
only focused on the task at hand
july two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
shadows like birds or
birds like shadows
flying behind white linen curtain
coming and going
back & forth and over & under
undoubtedly feeding their young
or chasing their very own
displaced souls
since I couldn’t see
what I couldn’t see
I changed my train of thought
pretending they were giant moths
turned into beautiful butterflies
made possible by a warrior princess
carrying a magic sword
and a handful of wishes
march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
some birds are back but the temps
are well below zero
either they never got the memo
or they’ve come back early
for some unknown reason
I slowed down for a murder of crows
while taking the long way home
a hundred or so
cleaning up a spill of sorts near
the corn sweetener plant
once in my rearview
anxiously getting back at it
shifting gears past the hill
the music meets the sun
and the speeding locomotive
sounding off along the river
eagles circling high above
sparrows racing in my peripheral
nearly anything with wings
busily chasing dreams
february two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
listen carefully there is a bird
warbling from the moon
how she got there is anyone’s guess
is she yellow or is she red or blue
plump or thin or somewhere in between
can you tell by listening carefully
to the tenor of her fiddle
there is a feel to her presence
sublime and pleasantly inviting
when will the world stop spinning
and listen carefully to her message
december two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
looking for something new
I gaze out the 10th floor window
catching a glimpse of October
waiting in the wings
closely held by unsuspecting vultures
cleverly disguised as angels
coaxing me to open my heart and soul
[and inch closer to the edge]
in exchange promising riper fruit
and even brighter sunrises
september two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
first there was the final dream
approaching morning light
bedroom curtains breathing in and out
mimicking my own circadian rhythm
and welcoming the dawn chorus
birds beginning to think it’s spring
how they invade my subconscious
pretending to be children
reincarnated from fallen leaves
singing from the tallest trees
one morning that will be me
having not awakened from the dream
free falling like a leaf among many
reaching out and believing
finally participating in the dawn chorus
july two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I forgive and forget
it’s easy to do
or so the birds of the sky
tell me so
they speak to me often
believing I’m not listening
but I fool them
and take everything in
there’s nothing to forgive
ergo nothing to forget
I keep telling myself
like a man in a trance
when I’m alone
the birds of the sky
keep me company
they think I don’t notice
but I most certainly do
as time passes
they learn to trust and believe
feeding from my hand
as I stand like a statue in the wind
my eyes fixed
above the setting sun
they speak about life
and speak about death
but when I ask what will come next
their chatting becomes silence
and I am left to imagine
all on my own
may two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
who will speak to me next
as if in tomorrow
standing here on the ground
looking up
bird’s nest in the open air
curious cat in my peripheral
I realize I’m not alone anymore
it only feels that way
stepping out of my skin
for the very first time
and looking back
through a bottomless mirror
so it seems the bird and cat
have been chosen
to encourage me on
one pushing
the other pulling
both bickering
in their own beautiful way
march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
winter winds unusually warm
bringing back birds I’ve not seen
in what seems like ages
suddenly returning in waves
I’ve been flying and foraging
for nearly a fortnight now
blending in with a family of
black-capped chickadees
I almost forgot what is was like
to be amongst a family
of five or fifty or five hundred
coexisting effortlessly
january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
nobody talks about birds
growing older
but here we are
sitting on park benches
bread crumbs in our hands
this sitting down is for birds
I say out loud
and you naturally agree
without speaking a word
it’s a warm winter’s day
and our shadows
are barely visible on the
black asphalt
like skinny icicles hanging
ever slowly changing
december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
in the kitchen uncaged canaries
chat amongst themselves
swapping oft-told tales and
keeping secrets from
black & white cat crouched
against shadowy wall
outside red-breasted nuthatches
mimic dog barking at jet airliner
piercing cumulus clouds
waiting for aforementioned feline
to give them another chance
at target practice
december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve
oh captive bird
is that the only song
you know
sing sing sing to me
a lullaby
oh captive bird
serenading me to sleep
door’s wide open
why oh why
won’t you leave
oh captive bird
finally scheming
in my dreams
can feel you flying
like never before
november two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
black on grey aviator high in flight
solitary and void of thought
soaring and sharing potentialities
to shadowy souls down below
their earthbound eyes
transfixed at effortless emotions
smiles forming and fingers pointing
curiously considering the possible
inevitability of one day doing the same
october two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
roadside singer
quite colorful and
resting comfortably atop
curved guard rail
counting blue cars
and red motorcycles
racing by like clockwork
ruffling feathers
and drowning out
magical sounds
inspired by god herself
may two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all right reserved
twilighty on an october evening
cats a’meowing and quiet moon
maybe making an appearance
I’ve seen you in this race before
maybe it was ten years ago
or maybe it was yesterday
these pockmarks on my cheeks
they don’t mean a thing
I regret you ever saw them
those moons we rarely see
orbiting worlds we barely know
absolutely belong here
and why you decided to go
long before your time
has everything to do with them
october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 