From our Spring/Summer 2006 issue, our second NaPoMo featured poem, by one of our favorite poets and people, Geri Doran.
A Landing Place for Birds
Trick grass moves like quail, becomes quail.
Half a yard away, a stellar's jay
blues into the underbrush.
Here is a squander hart, I say,
but the deer's in the picture now, too,
its fine hair dampened by mist
ferried in from the nearby sea.
Everything gathers. Starfish
line the beach, yesterday's cobalt
leached into the welcoming sand.
Today, white and skeletal,
the bodies remain in place of themselves.
In the hand-made casket--birch,
like you wanted--we put our tenderest gifts.
Who speaks with any knowing?
If soul perishes, how do I explain
the brilliant softness of your hair?
There's an arch here you'd like--
carved from virgin redwood.
We overlook the ocean, the arch,
the hart and me. And everywhere
come birds, come dreams