by Barbara Stoughton

The tidelings fly

Sand and waves and wind

Birds and cats and window sites

On the yellow sandbar

The receding tide place sets

The gulls’ dining table

In a small brown leaf

I see flick across the yard

Winter flutterby

Beside the dogwood tree

I hear trills and thrills

Resounding,

From one small bird throat

Dogwood white in sun

Pine trees standing in the shade

With all of the bird sounds