Starling

Aprils of my childhood
were not tinged white
by snowstorms.

trudging down sidewalks
slick with ice
I slip as I'm startled
by a trilling call-

(startling) starling

black feathers made
blacker still
against storm-shrouded sky
feathers already
spattered with white flecks

(starling starchild)
paying little heed
to the snow that
falls around it

singing his heart out

branches groan against
the late winter onslaught
as he sings

shards of ice flash into my eyes
searing my skin
and he sings

a sunshine song
for a mate
and he sings
for the spring
for light
for someone to smile
as he sings


and he sings.