Red Spring 
Siena Ward

The blackbirds have dressed up for the season,
Their usual hooded black capes
Adorned with blazing red [shoulder pads].

There is a busyness in the air
As everyone readies their nest.

Mouths full of
Mouthfuls of
Hair, twigs, the peelings
Of a tree, the skin
Of a fruit, grass.

The fat egrets are swaying
precariously on the branches
of the tallest trees

Squawking and honking
Rudely at me, at each other.
Their faces have become painted
Red, which makes them appear furious.

Even the finches—
Heads dipped in red,
Like they buried those
Ravenous sweet faces
Into something bleeding—

They sing all day long.
Siena Ward is a Brooklyn-based poet originally from California, currently teaching and pursuing her master’s in English literature at Brooklyn College.


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