Direction for my dad
This bird feeder,
tall, framed
with wood and glass,
a silo for seeds,
dangles on long wire
from a high branch
of the live oak.
Last night it thrashed
in the storm, glass
reflected clouded full-moon
and lightning flashes. Lantern-
like it swayed, tossed
in wind currents and electric air.
Through the night we noticed
this torch, testament
to wind's direction
its power, but something more.
Today birds congregate
in steady rain for soaked kernels
and a still perch. Cardinals
click and chirp to set
their position for their mate.
Our binoculars cannot pick them
out of the oak
until a red jet lands,
catches his image in glass
selects a seed
sets his own direction.
