A pomp-and-circumstantial hesitation-
glide across the cinder-
block foundation we were digging
right-angle linear into hillside;
scarlet/black/ermine rings
moving without seeming
in sequent curves, until
without a royal glance behind,
it disappeared.
In its place, nails and framing, sub-
floor, roof and plumbing.
Now we live among robins, juncos,
neighborly birds.
But the red and yellow tanager
and the evening grosbeak
are less common;
and the pileated woodpecker
with its imperial crimson crest
has moved on
to the kingdom
of exile,
for all the seeds we scatter
like beggars for birds—
for all we wish the skinny shiver
of serpent-rings
and tricolor robes,
for all we wish
their grace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Written as a true nature lover....