The Paddock Review

Storks

 

On this cold night

winter’s last rally

rakes across the fledgling breast

of spring like claws:  the last

white bear turns, hungering,

northward.

 

We put on layers of sweaters again

and light a circle of lamps

deep in the heart of the house.  But

we are restless, keep listening.

You are the first to get up.

You pace a few silent steps,

then go.  Upstairs I find you

perched at the window,

an early stork

staring from the slender chimney

of your bones down

at icy slivers of teeth

slicing into tender garden growth.

 

Without thinking, 

we gather the afghans

and carefully fold our long limbs

down into them.

With a soft ritual clicking of bills,

necks twining, wings rising,

we begin

the ancient migration

back to the place

of our birth.

…..

This poem is from the chapbook being from being broke open by Marcia Casey (Finishing Line Press), and can be found at https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/being-from-being-broke-open-by-marcia-casey/

Marcia Casey has an MFA from Goddard College. She lives on the Oregon Coast with her dog Zoë and co-edits a local Episcopal creative arts publication called The Labyrinth.