Birds Talking Place

 

First night in our new house

a screech owl made introductions,

eerie and blistering and unforgettable

as any sound at 2:37 A.M. may be,

but as an owl screech is most especially.

 

First morning in our new house

a clutch of blue jays fussed and quarreled

and kicked up dirt at the little dog

until the bigger dogs issued instructions

to do so no more.

 

And every morning since in this house

the birds put me on notice:

wrens, waxwings, flickers, vireo.

 

Most days, and most all day,

red tailed hawks circle and glide

over the valley trees.

 

A murder of three crows

rides out the heat of the hottest days

in the oak behind our house.

 

And when the tractors come to mow the pastures,

geese from the northern pond

and ducks from the southern

kill time away from the disturbance

milling about our back yard.

 

For the first week in our new house

I had coffee with the mockingbird

who sat on our chimney and san,

all the calls he knew,

twenty-five or thirty,

end on end,

and again and again,

until satisfied

 my understanding was complete.

 

 

Joey Brown’s poetry, fiction, and essays have appeared in a number of literary journals including Rhino, The Mid-America Poetry Review, The Dos Passos Review, Compass Rose, Pinyon, Clare, The Chaffin Journal, Quiddity, Front Range Review, storySouth, Freshwater, and The Florida Review. Her work has been nominated for The Pushcart Prize three times. In 2010, Mongrel Empire press published a collection of her poems titled Oklahomaography.

Joey holds an MA in Creative Writing and a PhD in Interdisciplinary Studies from the University of Oklahoma. She is a writing professor and teaches writing workshops.