Florida Too

Florida Too

I love the sampling of early morning birds building nests.

The green so green it is almost black

and the long spells of silence on Sunday morning

punctuated by each of those different bird calls.

I love the tangle of wires above my yard that connects each house to power

but, more importantly,

provides the squirrels with a highway

and the doves a place to rest.

The old power-line poles are like Grayhound stations for the crows

and the mockingbirds

and the cardinals

calling out to one another

making contact,

pairing off,

looking for twigs and seeds.

My home is on a sand dune neatly disguised as suburbia,

but in the morning before the din

it is, for a short time, Florida again.