RETURN OF THE PURPLE MARTINS BY TERRY LUCAS

Witchita Falls, TX, 1985

A million feathers preen the evening sky, comb out
the yellow, gold and red strands, until black
is a word for world, a tornadic pulsing
thread, spooling back to the first
nest of twigs as thin as tears
or thoughts lost in the
hollow-boned dance
arcing toward the
eye of the elm
until the final
purple martin
spirals
in.
Until
the first
purple martin
spirals out of the
eye of the elm, arcing
toward the hollow-boned
dance, lost in the thought of
tears as thin as twigs, spooling
forward to the next nest, a tornadic
pulsing of yellow, gold and red threads
until blue is a word for world, combing out
a million black feathers preening the morning sky.

(C) Poem, Terry Lucas
(C) Photograph, Gary Topper

From The Thing Itself

• "Return of the Purple Martins" first appeared in Dharma Rain (Saint Julian Press, 2016).

• Write a poem about the return of a certain bird. Begin with the words, “A million feathers….”

• Can you create a mirror poem like this, in which the second half mirrors, but not quite, the first half, as if unraveling backwards?

• Take a moment to look at the photograph and then read the poem again. Can you feel a relationship between the visual image and the words? What do you sense about that relationship? How does it help you understand the interconnectedness of this world?