Poem for Today

Bird at the top of the world,
who knew 
it would come to this?
What are you 
singing? What are you 
singing for?
Perhaps you just can’t 
help yourself. Over
the entire hemisphere
your flute-phrases fall,
announcing spring again
- our northern spring, 
stirring deep and dark 
within bare forests,
advancing across plains
toward great cities
with their tatty city parks,
their plane-trees
shading street cafes.
Even the seas 
present no obstacle, 
no border, because 
you’re welcome, bird, 
singing at the top of the world.