Various and Sundry Poetry

I wanted the birds to tell me something.

I wanted the birds to tell me something.
Two birds, pre-coital, on the wire,
their wings in a frenzy, while we ate,
nearly silent, on the deck.

I chuckled at their brief but passionate display,
the metronomic tilt the wire made
as they whipped through their routines.

I thought about how simple love is
for certain creatures. How sometimes all it takes
is to say "I see you. Do you see me, too?"

The birds didn't stay long, through two or three bites
of steak, our forks scraping the white plates,
but sometimes it's brevity that's most exquisite,
that leaves the deeper mark.

I didn't know whether, later, your hand
would reach for mine, or if I would call your name
with new tenderness.

I wanted the birds to tell me something,
but they flew away so quickly, and the wire, eventually,
returned to itself, and I finished
the last of my dinner, still
a little hungry.