At the same site a week earlier, I tried to catch some cedar waxwings, casual but flitting among berries. They seemed to be posing, and I thought I had at least a couple of fine shots. But here, sadly, is the best of them:
I looked for a poem specifically about cedar waxwings and found this one by Debora Greger, who has published eight books of poetry. She is the life partner of poet and critic William Logan, who’s been discussed here a few times in the last few months. Both writers teach at the University of Florida.
Psyche and Eros in Florida by Debora Greger : Poetry Magazine
Once again, this is my first experience with a poem, and I'm not sure how all the parts fit together. However, I like some of it very much:
They devour the fruit no local bird wants.Unswerving, they swerve through clotheslines.Let their whispery cries be mine.Their whisper of wings is yours.
The drop of wax that fell on your bare shoulder.Why didn’t you want me to see you?
what of the traitorous, languorous body?It lies down. It begs.