Perched atop the fence
his morning lament’s
sharp wah! trills
descend valley-bound,
topple over brambles
like packages or war
rations dropped from
planes in acts of faith.
This is the first season
he stands on guard alone
remembering when his family
of eight daily combed grasses for
insects, speed walkers darting
to and fro, heads bobbing
up and down, competing
in a friendly way to survive.
Rarely ten seconds pass—
mostly four, six, or eight—
before he sends his song into
air again. Maybe it is
unburdening heavy weight?
Or is it rooted in hope that
somewhere some survivor’s voice
might rise like morning fog?
Sometimes we must sing
alone to a dying world—
even when seemingly
no kindred spirits in silent
valleys remain to catch our
bittersweet song’s fall—
save for ghosts who solemnly
receive such sentimental cries.
Mark Strohschein is a Washington state poet who has authored a full-length book of poems, Walking a Country Mile, and chapbooks, “Cries Across Borders,” “Deep Roots, Heavy Crowns,” and “Reflections from Clear, Ancient Ponds.” His poems have appeared in Flint Hills Review, Lips Poetry Magazine, In Parentheses, Quibble and a poetry anthology, Dulce Poetica.
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