Poem: The Call

By: Robert A. Davies

callmebythename

tik tik,
the winter wren answers.
It comes closer tik
holds still for me.
I note its eye-brow, white
black dots in a row
on its brown folded wings —
no visit complete
without this tiny scene.
In the city there are moments
tik tik
when my shadow-self hears —
visions follow —
Oregon grape and swordfern,
the cascara to be
where beavers have recently been.

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