Swamp Time by John Grey

Every morning,

one blackbird,

on a spruce branch,

chants the nearby females to attention,

with "I am a great red-winged Romeo."

Sunup on gray tidal flats brings

a caravan of crabs,

terns stepping around stones,

mussel shoals.

Midday, same blackbird,

same song.

Late afternoon,

crickets begin their chirp,

but one blackbird

can out-warble a thousand insects.

Evening comes

to birds in reeds, in cypress.

Surrounds are dark as its feathers.

Gulf waters, moon-instructed,

move in, wave by wave,

flood silence with a swish and roll.

Head cocked sideways,

sleep comes to all great red-winged lovers.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in Sin Fronteras, Dalhousie Review and Qwerty with work upcoming in Plainsongs, Willard and Maple and Connecticut River Review.