No Cute Pets
the birds of the morning sing because they must

and I shudder because the sky is white   a low cloud cover    whiskering the hills
which does not really influence the outcome      if there are robins singing      the
scent of a fresh Spring morning and there was a day when your face was smiling
a day when stone walls failed to demarcate the lines between revelation   and the
whiteness of low clouds birthing themselves   from mud-ugly snowbanks   and I
wondered if you could manage  the transition of a purple crocus  making its sing
ular way through Winter snow    and the next thing you know     a whole herd of
gaudy daffodils bent on imposing their yellow absolutism on all the world   such
an amazing word, “absolutism,”      I think I am in love     with its syllable sound
counting five and never stopping to look back     at the poor chick-a-dees singing
chick-a-dee chick-a-dee chick-a-dee   lives spent in a New England snow let us
now sing praise to the birds of the morning   bent on their whisker-white sky     I
take your face between my hands   kiss  kiss   pretend that birdsong can say it all.


Bird Market, Barcelona
Copyright 2013, William Ross
Copyright 2013, Janet Barry

Janet Barry is a musician and poet with works in numerous publications including Off-the-Coast, Cider Press Review, Canary, and New Mirage Journal. She serves yearly as a judge for "Poetry Out Loud", and has received Pushcart nominations for the poems “Winter Barn” and "Commandment". She holds degrees in organ performance and poetry. To see more of her writing please visit

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