The Warbler

[jim turner]

Do you think he warbles for the joy of wings?
Was given that throat to please a human ear?
There lurks in his song an undertone,
dark and perilous to those who dare too near.
Hawks learn to shun the singer’s nest.
The greatest poet cannot find words–
sounds–as malign as the warbler’s song.

I touched his bone. The terrier honed his fangs,
snarled, drew blood from my invading hand.
When I told the cat I would take her mouse,
her golden eyes hissed music dangerous as fire.

I took her old doll to wash away the mud.
Were she Medusa, I would be frozen stone.
She cried, she wept, she kicked and screamed!

It was then I heard the warbler’s savage heart.

Jim 12/09

[Sue Littleton]

I see you have been treated with violence for teasing pacirfic animals. As to the wicked warbler, I put my money on the fierce hummingbird! Interesting poem, Turner! Sue

[dadio]

I read this elsewhere and can only affirm how fine a poem it is and theme.

[jim turner]

I thank both of you for reading and commenting. And, Sue, I do not tease pacific creatures--especially the one called human--because I have learned that their reaction is unpredictable. I remember being warned: If you think you know what a bear will do next you know more than the bear does. For other reasons I do not wear lipstick in the presence of hummingbirds (or at any other time) since having been nose to nose with those needle-nosed critters and having no idea at all what what in their wild little minds. And since seeing them approach "redness," as in a red clothespin in their search for nectar. Glad I wasn't close when they discovered the truth. Jim