revised. originally posted 11/19/2020.
Last night you lay awake terrified
by the sound of this country honking
its changes, ripping the night.
So harsh, that sound of your illusions
soaring, diminishing, flying away.
You stayed up polishing weapons. At dawn
when you raised the living room blinds, what was
on the ground below the window? One cardinal,
three chickadees, two mourning doves;
all pecking, scratching, cooing. Far less noise
than the night before. This is your country
in daylight. You live here;
you are expected
to put up your sword
and feed those birds.