The crows have followed. The blue jays. The cardinals. Voice calling to attention as footsteps sound toward and away from doors. Penetrating closed windows and the background hum of the construction at the end of the block. Dark shadows transforming into silhouettes on bare branches not yet convinced of the imminent arrival of spring.
Where is the hawk?
new streets and sidewalks–
winter lingering, chilling–
robin’s morning song
I recently moved 10 blocks north, a whole new blank slate to fill.
People think of cities as not-nature. But the birds and trees tell me I’m home.