Waxwings

Ruby Enario-Carlino

In late spring, the waxwings
Visit like an old memory
At once vivid and fleeting as
They kiss the silvery white plumes
Of the old pampas grass.

Sometimes they visit incognito, always in pairs,
Sporting the feathery panicles like a mustache
As they play hide and seek in the blades of grass

Remember? Their chirps tease,
They belt into a soft melodic song as they dance
In the majestic inflorescences.

Remember? I did, briefly I remember,
One happy memory then a burst of wind
Snatched it away, leaving a weeping
Sadness in its wake. Remember?
What was it I remember, I ponder.

6.10.2021
Sequim, Washington