3 June 2022 (black spruce)
Kristen Lindquist
black spruce bog . . .
the unexpected trill
of a palm warbler
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BOOK OF DAYS: A POET AND NATURALIST TRIES TO FIND POETRY IN EVERY DAY
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black spruce bog . . .
the unexpected trill
of a palm warbler
forget-me-nots
hidden by tall grass . . .
a fledgling’s loud chip
loudly
with the radio song
sun on new leaves
a large ant
explores my desktop . . .
peony buds
feels like summer . . .
a robin flies from her nest
with a fecal sac
wave glare . . .
a cliffside gull pants
on her nest
our footsteps
muted by spruce needles . . .
first lady’s slipper
the white clouds
of apple blossoms . . .
morning fog
a child’s guide
to constellations
first starflowers
swaying seaweed . . .
a seal pup waits
on a low-tide ledge
all the poems I ever heard singing catbird