
“Country Birdhouses” by Martha Kisling
simple pine planks
sawn and fitted with
amateur joinery
finished in primary colors
slapdash garage homemade workbench technique
they hang high round my forest enclosure
crude rustic designs for my
unfussy visiting friends
those hard-weather creatures
who sing to me
words that I’m learning to translate
with help of a feisty old jay
knows the neighborhood
been here forever
has landed each limb-tip
escaped every squirrel and hawk
many hundred times over
a true kindred spirit
who never once judged
my unskilled outdoorsmanship
never made fun of my
concrete and asphalted roots
it’s him who decides
which bird gets what house
for nobody
not even me
would dare argue the point
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