Friday, December 14, 2012

Snow Ptarmigan

I retrieve birds
In my sleep.
Some are whole memories,
Most are partial at best.
At two and three and four in the morning
The snow ptarmigan
Comes to mind
In winter plumage.
It hides in the snow.
I can barely see
Its outline.
There are birds
In my sleep,
Whole birds,
Birds I have never seen
When I am awake.
They remind me of their presence
So I can find them in the bird book
When I wake.

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