by Paul Ragonese<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
At first, all you know is that it’s a bird.
\nThat it sings, that it must breathe
\nin order to sing, that it is alive.
\nThat it flies, that it is different
\nfrom yourself because it flies. That its
\nsong is different when it flies, more urgent,
\nlike when you run.<\/p>\n
You need not know<\/em> That it lays eggs All of this<\/em> That it has feathers, And when you discover that its name Paul Ragonese is an MFA student at the University of St. Thomas in Houston, TX. He is interested in exploring how faith, curiosity, and a love for the natural world can come together in creative pursuits. He has been published in the Eastern Pennsylvania Poetry Review.<\/p>\n
\nif it is a cowbird or a warbler or a blue jay,<\/em>
\nalthough, come to think of it, you know<\/em>
\nit is not a blue jay.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nin some sort of nest and that these eggs
\nhatch baby birds in kind. That these
\nbabies will fly in just a few short weeks.
\nThat they, too, will sing.<\/p>\n
\nwithout a name.<\/em><\/p>\n
\none of which you may have picked up
\non a wooded walk to admire the vibrant
\ncolors or the gently patterned brown.
\nThat it, like you, avoids the rain.
\nThat it, like you, goes out each day
\nin search of food. That it is unburdened
\nfrom a job, but fills the time just fine.<\/p>\n
\nis Carolina Chickadee, or Yellow-throated Vireo,
\nor White-breasted Nuthatch, when you learn
\nthat it will perch on reeds along the pond
\nand nest in tree hollows and birdhouses,
\nthat some believe it mates for life,
\nthis cannot take away any of your
\nmore basic knowledge, only making plain
\nfor those who are listening,
\nthat you are talking about a dear friend
\nwhose voice you’ve always admired.
\n <\/p>\n
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