Never-ending Birds by David Baker
Never-ending Birds
David BakerThat’s us pointing to the clouds. Those are clouds
of birds, now we see, one whole cloud of birds.
There we are, pointing out the car windows.
October. Gray-blue-white olio of birds.
Never-ending birds, you called the first time—
years we say it, the three of us, any
two of us, one of those just endearments.
Apt clarities. Kiss on the lips of hope.
I have another house. Now you have two.
That’s us pointing with our delible whorls
into the faraway, the true-born blue-
white unfeathering cloud of another year.
Another sheet of their never ending.
There’s your mother wetting back your wild curl.
I’m your father. That’s us three, pointing up.
Dear girl. They will not—it’s we who do—end.
KEEP READING
SHARED WITH GRATITUDE
This poem appeared in Never-Ending Birds by David Baker, published by W. W. Norton & Company, 2011. (Available direct from W. W. Norton & Company • Also on: Amazon • Bookshop)
ABOUT DAVID BAKER
Poet and essayist David Baker was born in Bangor, Maine. He spent his childhood in Missouri and earned both a BSE and MA from Central Missouri State University before earning a PhD from the University of Utah. He has received fellowships and awards from the Poetry Society of America, the Pushcart Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, and the Guggenheim Foundation. Baker’s collections of poetry include Changeable Thunder (2001), Midwest… (more)
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ENDNOTES
- Explore other works in pursuit of: birds • family • time • Or browse the index
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