JAMIE IRONS |
On Hearing, But Not Seeing, a Cardinal
August 5, 1995, west of ChicagoOn touching down I stepped into the heat
I'd been away from over thirty years,
A stranger now. Easy to find the street
I lived on, not much changed. No useless tears
Blurred recognition of my brothers' names
Scrawled on the coach house wall. The crimson bird
Cried brightly from high foliage—all unchanged,
That loud, liquid whistle, same notes we heard
In childhood, the insistent Cheer, cheer, cheer!—
Dispelling melancholy. Still unseen
The singer flew off. But you reappeared
After an absence, dressed in red—I'd been—
Whistling, summoning some lost thing we share—
Remiss encountering you. Memory too bare—Remiss encountering you. Memory too bare—
Whistling, I'd summon some lost thing we share,
After an absence. Dressed in red, I'd been
The singer. Flew off. But you reappeared
Dispelling melancholy. Still unseen
In childhood, the insistent Cheer, cheer, cheer!—
That loud, liquid whistle, same notes we heard,
Cried brightly from high foliage. All unchanged,
Scrawled on the coach house wall, the crimson bird
Blurred recognition of my brothers' names.
I lived on, not much changed. No useless tears,
A stranger now. Easy to find the street
I'd been away from over thirty years.
On touching down I stepped into the heat.
Poems by Jamie Irons: