THE LAST BIRD WORDS


The roll was taken from the porch,
    in whispers,
of those who came to our backyard vespers.

Neighborhood redbirds
and red breasts arrived
with the slipping evening light
to claim their first-come, first-served
roosting rights.

An evening duel ensued
o’er who would have
the last bird words.

The redbirds, last at the feeder,
    chirped it shut for the night,
but couldn’t out-wait
the robins’
slow, drawn out antiphons,
    warbling down from the trees,
    trailing silence through the leaves.

These psalm-like prayers
prompted  "Amens"
from those below
not too busy to care
    who sang when
        or if the last solar lantern
            came on before ten.


Dennis R. Keefe, 9/30/12