Wherefore O Birds and Small Fish Surround Me
A poem by Robert Wrigley.
As I bent to pick up a seed-bauble, my soul
staggered down. A chickadee’s comfort
blessed my head and heart. The soul will kneel awhile,
thank you, the soul shall bask in chickadee balm.
The sky being a cloud of blue fish says fly,
an atmosphere of water, the fish of the sky says fish,
blue at the depth of deep water.
Hang on, staggered soul. It’s not like you’re dying.
See the slender radicle emerge from the seed,
silver as salmon milt. Notice the tender regard from under
the chickadee’s black and dapper cap. Released
thus from plummet, soul rises but chest-high again.
Robert Wrigley's most recent book is The True Account of Myself as a Bird. He has received the Kingsley Tufts Award, a Pacific Northwest Book Award, and fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation and the National Endowment for the Arts. We welcome reader letters. Email High Country News at [email protected] or submit a letter to the editor. See our letters to the editor policy.
