Grackle,
You’ve murdered brother crow
And stolen his totem spot
Atop our local mythology.
Grackle,
Strop-beaked marauder
stepping lightly, spearing
Toads, over razor grass.
Grackle,
The cloth is seldom tossed
Over your sky; you: blind
To the dimming dark, deaf
To the silence of midnight.
You’d sing the world to sleep
If only your song-strings weren’t tuned
To cackle, to unsettle, never to soothe.
Grackle,
Pale-eyed and pupiled,
A ring of chalk light
Set in a vacant heaven,
A perpetual eclipse.
Grackle,
Dressing the boney yew tree
In blue-black leaves
That shutter in their own wind,
That shutter in their
own wind,
that shutter
in their
own wind.
Wow the humble Grackle has never before been so exalted (well in a manner of speaking) . Loved this song of the Grackle. I often pray for a Blue Jay to watch; but god only sends more and more Grackle's; guess there is a special on those this year..(smile)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very play-full, nice and crisp, good poem.