With only a few days left in National Poetry Month, this pedometer geek is sharing one of the poems from the first anthology, 44839: Poetry From a Zip Code. The anthology was published by Drinian Press, LLC, in conjunction with the Huron Public Library’s Poet Laureate program. This poem is called “Serving Berries.”
With the house came trees,
we kept them all except two old maples.
A clump of trees was in the mix.
What they were, we had no idea,
but they were lichen-covered and leafy.
Next year, though,
the clump brought forth
soft blossoms of white,
followed by small berries
of red deepening to blue.
Not blueberries, but serviceberries
And with the advent of the berries
came masked birds,
glossy winged cedar waxwings.
First, one or two who nibbled and then disappeared,
A few days later, ten, fifteen, more
flocked to the tree, covering it,
noshing on succulent fruits,
clearing the tree.
Just as quickly, they were gone,
not to be seen again
until the next year.
Now we watch
waiting for blossoms,
then the scouts, and
finally the flock.
The timing must be just right,
too early a spring,
other birds get the prize,
the scouts report back: the berries aren’t ripe.
Today, the masked scouts arrived,
picking at berries here and there,
cocking their heads this way and that,
as if deciding.
Will they bring the flock?
Is the timing right for the birds
and for the birdwatchers?
We watch. We wait.
~Nancy Brady, 2017
The blossoms are now out on our serviceberry tree. We have recently planted three more of them in the wildflower garden. Of course, it will take several years before they produce berries. And now, we wait.
Photo by Nancy Brady, 2020