Birthright Poem by Steven Federle

Winds blow
off the delta,
stir to breathy song
flashing trees.

In soft sunlight
jeweled birds
hover low,
sip red nectar
from the slim cylinder
by my empty chair.

Beneath the breeze
leaves along the fence-line are still,
and on the glowing ground
potted geraniums wait
in blazing stasis.

I know sea-borne storms
soon will come,
and leaves will fall,
to die on the sodden
winter ground;

for this
is my birthright,
my father's
good gift.