magpie

a court jester
in a tuxedo
flaps and begs
for coins of silver
to satisfy his craving
for all that glitters
in the sun
scolding and laughing
nipping
and challenging everyone's authority
even the dog's
clucking and squawking
bobbing
and tucking treasures under the mat
or in the folds of my sister's jeans
we laugh
as he goes about
pirating very seriously
this pillager in plumage
strutting
like he owns the place
clowning and making us giggle
till our face hurts



[This is an old poem, but I found it today and decided I should post it so I could throw away the paper it was scribbled on. It is about a "pet" magpie I had years ago named Merlin McDuck. If you have ever read either my animal blog or my regular blog about my life (that inevitably revolves AROUND my animals) you know we often end up with strays and even wild animals needing rehabilitation. Merlin technically stayed wild... as in I never kept him in a cage and he was free to come and go as he pleased, BUT I think he was more of a lost pet... a stray as he was a young bird, very tame, and had been banded. He was hilarious. We did try to track down his home by his band with no luck, and in the end his freedom cost him his life... we believe he was shot as a "pest." But we never could be sure, and since he would have been frantic if caged I knew of no other way to keep him than to let him be a free bird, who made visits to us every few hours to play and eat. I loved him.]

the young deer in our yard

its dark eyes mimic depth
but carry all the understanding
of the shrub it munches
not a brilliant animal
but still it's peaceful repose makes me want to take a page
from its book (vacuous though it may be) and stand,
near thoughtless,
in the cool air
thinking only thoughts of eat
breathe
munch
crunch
walk
nap
blink
a shaman in its own right
"clear your mind and think of nothing"
down to a science

With great reverence for Elizabeth Bishop

He was so tall and sleek and black
like oil and velvet combined
and my cousin almost ran into him before I grabbed him
(Scotty, not the Moose)
and backed away, my eyes, swollen with equal parts awe, love, and terror
but he wasn't going to charge
used to the hustle and bustle of campers and family reunions
and his horns, soft, and full of blood,
growing
but still I pulled Scotty back slowly, giving the moose respect
and at least 30 feet before worshiping him
with at least 80 fuzzy shots
because I durst not use my flash
and make him walk away.
But he didn't , in fact, he regarded me a moment
before laying down placidly by a hobbit-like den
and munching on cool grasses
to get out of the heat of the summer
and the Family reunion.

Goblin with the Orange Eye

His name is Goblin with the Orange Eye
He's not too brave, but he ain't too shy.
Left eye glowing' orange like a pumpkin in a patch
The others white like a ghost, so the 2 don't match
Swimming round in circles in his bowl o' glass
Givin' creepy looks as he go on pas'
I wonder if on Halloween he'll fly
Shoot right out his bowl and up to the sky
Jump on out like a bat out o' Hell
Terr'fyin' childrens with a Goblin spell!
Momma says "NO, and we don't say hell,
Or else in the corner you'll sit a spell."
She said he ain't nothing' but a speckley goldfish
And he won't do nothing' but swim in his dish.
But sometimes mommas don't know a thing
She say "you can't catch a bird by salting his wing."
And "Little ol' Goblin can't scare you to death."
But I think I thought I heard him, whisper under his breath.