Migration: Chickadees
Sandy Feinstein
Long note, high pitch you know:
truck backing out with garbage
or children maybe, warning
the neighborhood that something
is moving, stand back, take note.
When the alarm passes, the air
can be heard again, de-deeing near
the trash can just tipped upside down.
Same birdy sound in the brushy undergrowth
along Tulpehocken creek. Low water
reveals mud and soda cans. Two deer
stop on the trail, stare. One woodchuck
gets a better view on its back feet,
topples over. Soundless even in fright.
Turkeys rustle through mountain breaks,
scale Shenandoah slopes. An eagle
passes overhead. In between, black capped
chickadees call as if they were city birds
on vacation in the Virginia hills
playing telephone tag with lost relations.