American Bushtits, and: Burrowing Owls, and: Yellow-Crowned Night Herons

American Bushtits

I got long tailfeathers. Your spine straightens, shoes multiply on the floor, it's a start.I love my work, I hate my job. It's a hammer I've been holding for days.

Nobody sleeps when I'm working, nobody knows I'm working, nobody sleeps anymore,you fall asleep beside me but I check your blood sugar just to make sure.

The landscape should be your land. In every bed you plant leeks and peavines and holy basil;more birds come, drawing cats and voles. Make spaces and we'll all reside in them.

American bushtits use spider cocoons and lichen with hooklike projections to make fabric for their homes.The mothers produce bags out of these loops and hooks in the manner of Velcro.

In hidden spaces they'll rest so we won't know they were sleeping. Come on be active and gregarious, therefore, hardworking and loyal,say heighten you and our representatives will speak so carefully until their clients unravel all our most cherished laws.

I don't think I say enough of how much I love our home, the fertility of our yard, no matter what shape it's in,how grateful I am to have one, how humble I am before you and your steady caretaking.

There is evidence of an intergradation zone between gray-capped birds and the black-eared birdsthat occurs through the remainder of the species range. The woods are lit the sun lights them more.

It's the opposite of those deals. In paragraphs of you you live in small rooms and gardens, erotic and sacred spaces where all the work is done.And the stupid, who are so stupid, can shove it with their bare hands. I've been sitting here too long.

And the eggs will be the size of marbles and speckled in elaborate hanging nests.The nests will puff as the chicks grow; we'll all eat olives and willow seeds: when you wake up I'll feed them to you.

Burrowing Owls

With their long legs by Cesar Chavez Park we bring an emotional system;I like to work to attach personal experiences to what I'm doing, so it helps

tremendously the heart is in the head, it sort of beats there it gives me a headache.I got loudness and I got hooks, the song around me carries moths tumbling I say who

likes that beat I show you and you get it completely you do it better than me;you can't believe anything bad will happen so you let your dog run around off leash.

I keep my heart in my hat it's a nice hat. Some days we switch and I emphasize what I readbecause I think way too many people are making judgments based on headlines alone, and it

seems like we just really have to get everybody on all sides to acknowledge hard facts beforethe ground softens and the owls move in for the winter. You know that Johnny Werzner kid

some of the neighbors say he smokes crack, but I don't believe it. For his tenth birthday, all hewanted was a burrow owl, just like his old man. "Dad, get me a burrow owl. I'll never ask for anything else as long as I live."

Whatever you desire you put your heart into it's not as hopeless as it was when you were a teenager.Swoop down or fly up or chase what you want across the ground on foot. I ought to be endangered but I'm not. I ought to be wrong, but I'm not.

________

Note:

Some lines of this poem are taken from the song "Stuart," by the Dead Milkmen.

Yellow-Crowned Night Herons

Stay balanced in your routines. You might not think of symmetry, or if you do your reasons are frozen foreverand some migrate to Central America or stay put if it's warm. You are one part of this.

I'm listed as brave...