A Generation of Bird Watchers by Becky Laurenzana The distant dove cries The cardinal the color of blood rests on a worn fence Fluttering wings like eyelashes Opening to this complicated world Through a torn screen Damage left from a raging storm from tumultuous seasons past Yet the beauty is beyond the screen It is in the generation of bird watchers Each spring we perch In distant cities In distant countrysides In different spaces of time When I come to this window the pitter-patter of my heart connects A little boy staring at his grandpa’s bird books A grandpa holding his granddaughters hand walking through quiet pastures Only the bird’s song connects The man packing combat fatigues listening to the chirp amidst the scream of city sirens The suburban woman staring through the screen Eye-lids fluttering in harmony with bird wings Yet the beauty is beyond the screen It is in the generation of bird watchers From Becky Laurenzana: I...
Flying Island is the Online Literary Journal of the Indiana Writers Center, accepting submissions from Midwest residents and those with significant ties to the Midwest.