July, Interference On The Coast

— Diane Moomey

Some will say I interfere
this year. It was because
summer is not at all, here,
and spring-bloomed fuchsias have nothing
to replace. Hummingbirds seek in vain, in rain
like winter’s.

I buy a glass bottle,
fill with red, hang upside down
till fuschsias bloom again.

You might say I interfere:
a junco bird appears
where none have been for two years
or three, and peers
into my windows, hops close
as if to get a better view.

I buy a plastic bottle,
fill it with millet.
The bird returns, with family:
flings seed wide in what I hope
is glad abandon.

One might think I interfere
for no because at all,
except I see a flash
of brightest yellow downslope
among the eucalyptus,
want it close and so buy

a sock filled with thistle seed:
chocolate to finches, I hear.
This morning, thirteen
yellow bellies and brown,
hang heads down,
head-to-tail spiral
around the swaying sock.

My acts: sudden
gusts in the karmic winds of birds, appearing
on cue?

Or interference?

One thought on “July, Interference On The Coast

  1. Diane, this is such a masterful poem on many levels. Linguistically, it is beautifully languid and fluid. Your writing has such a soothing voice. I also love the vivid, yet refined imagery of this poem. There is clarity to each image as if a magnifying glass were put in each bird, each leaf. Above all, I’m impressed how this poem works as an effective rhetorical device. Its cause-and-effect structure builds logically and smartly to examine the notion of interfering with nature. Brava, Diane!

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