Watching the Sunrise in St. George, Utah (Poem)

For all of you regular readers out there (meaning me), I'm going to make this blog easier on myself. Instead of trying to post everyday (which can be a big job when you're trying to take care of three little girls as well as man the house and write in whatever cracks I can find in that day), I'm going to post two days a week: a poem or something of that sort on Tuesdays and an essay or something more prosey on Saturdays.

So here we go: ahead with the restructure:

Watching the Sunrise in St. George, Utah
10 May 2008

I wish I knew the names
of all these birds: I’m sure that’s a sparrow,

wings wound tight against the wind,
dropping to the tip of a cypress

before re-mounting the sky; and
two more there, circling the birdfeeder,

vying for seed. And there, a robin, breast flared
even at this hour,

sifting the zeroscape for a meal,
prouding its head to swallow, then

vanishing down a nearby bluff.
And there, scrambling from beneath

a tuft of backyard sage, what must be a mourning dove
throws dust and air at my presence. And yesterday,

as we came into town, I’m sure it was a raven
that arced across the road, tilting its wings

against the updraft from our car
to gather sky around its violet-

blue gloss. But that brooding coo,
too long and low

for the dove, covering the crickets' trill,
charming light from its clay vessel—

did Adam, at first,
even really know that name?