(In the Magic Plum Grove Tunnel)
[written for Palouse Walk @ PCEI]
wild plums & many birds plus
one cottontail to center
& make large
where green
foliage & a few small
dry summer plums still
hung where many more
lay where
they fell
I picked
one up
I ate
& spit
the pip
our California quail
line along a fallen log small leaps
bubbly chirps
their short legs that scissor when
with grace of small bones
they covy & bevy & clamber
at the edge of the trail
where
larger creatures can’t pass
they withdraw
kneel & uncoil under sky canopy
shake plum
tree branch
fall late
summer plum
roll
repose of ever
in remnant prairie
the one
where you know
all the birds
*
If you write the poem you know (or knew) all the birds by name
*
someone beyond the skirt of plums says I don’t want to play that macho game anymore
admitted
in a patch
of rewilded
prairie
backyard apothecary 