Day 2, Villanelle for the cerulean warbler

Day 2, Villanelle for the cerulean warbler

All their days fly by,

hurtling toward the last.

We close our eyes,

recall their call in the Appalachian springtime.

And, fools, mistaking memory for fact,

let all their days fly by,

strip the mountain tops dry,

burn the complex canopy they rely upon to ash.

We close our eyes

as the once-common sky blue singers on high

dive toward extinction, bungee-jumping from the nest

in their daze, flying by

clutching spider webs to try

a fresh start, strands fragile as glass.

We close our eyes.

The next of thousands of voices dwindles and dies,

refused even the final dignity of making the “list.”

We watch their end of days fly by

and yet we close our eyes.