Sixty Years Later I Notice, Inside A Flock Of Blackbirds,
the Venetian blinds
I dusted off
for my mother on
Saturday mornings,
closing, opening them
with the pull cord a few
times just to watch the outside
universe keep blinking,
as the flock suddenly
rises from November stubble,
hovers a few seconds,
closing, opening,
blinking, before it tilts,
then vanishes over a hill.
Poem copyright ©2013 by David Allan Evans from his most recent book of poems, the Carnival, the Life, Settlement House, 2013. Poem reprinted by permission of David Allan Evans and the publisher.
