Accidental Birds by Deborah Howard

Accidental Birds Deborah Howard Let’s meet beyond the ticking of clockswhere the river flows over smooth stoneand wildflowers lace the muddy banks.I will come over the stone wall,knees bloodied from scrambling across sharp-tongued granite.You will walk out of the forest,a canoe hefted on your shoulders,past deer silent on fallen leaves,smelling of rot and redemption.There will be a vagueness to your face,no more than a trick of light.You will not remember the snow that fell in oceanic driftsoutside the window where your bed was moored,the small hurts or the lastwhen everything went on as if it wasn’t so.We’ll spread a blanket on the grass,eat handfuls of honey,watch the clouds swim through the sky.I will ask who received youand if they spoke with the voices of lost stars.You will gather accidental birds in your arms-the western grebe, the snowy egret,the red throated loon.You will whisper to them, tell them how to find their wayby the green jeweled moss that growson the north side of the treesand the position of the sun.This timeI will listen.More from Deborah Howard ↓@deborahcrafts on InstagramHer book, Haiku 52: A Journey Through the Year, is out now