Today's poem is by Nate Pritts
New Year's Eve
It's six o'clock in the evening & where I am
there is no snow. Birds transcribe the incalculable
arc of flight, that graceful half-circle etched
between origin & destination. Who can say
where they'll end up? My first name is Nate.
My last name is Pritts. I'm having a wonderful time.
It's been a wonderful year. But even the birds
can't resist taking shots at each other,
thumb-sized beaks aimed kamikaze-style, feathers
shining the gaudy colors of jealousy, avian lust
& rage. My name is Nate & my neighbors
are unknown to metheir names unrecorded,
their haircuts unremarked upon, their all-night-long
comings & goings unexplained, the snap-
crackle-pop of their car tires on the rough gravel
as they back out & pull in with carloads of who-knows-what?
My last name is Pritts. Sluggish winter dark
makes it so I can't see more than ten feet
in front of my face, no moon. My name is Nate
but I will answer to Nathan & after this
last night of the year you can call me The Birdman
for the tenuous but lasting peace I will broker
amongst the warring factions of our feathered friends
all night we will sing about love & happiness,
our wings our wings our wings around each other.
Copyright © 2007 Nate Pritts All rights reserved
from Court Green
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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