Evening

drawn to the porch at dusk

we sit without speaking 

until the orchestra begins

 

wasn’t it a vireo we would hear

by the old barn at sunset?

I miss that sound

blue jays’ insistent morning squawks. 

woke my childhood home 

one by one 

 

doves, gold and purple finches

their vibrant tiny bodies 

feed, attract, give notice all day long

 

finally, at evening

the soft trill of shy robins

for they, too, sing in daylight 

but no one hears them, 

drowned out by the din of life

waiting for their chance to say 

goodnight again, I love you