Rose-breasted Grosbeak

by Diane Sahms

As if every sound has its own shape, purpose.
His song, distilled. His black-hooded head
& brilliant semi-circle of red, with a leaky
valve extending down the middle of a white breast
& satin black wings with patches of white highlights
& this sacred space—his rambling song & sharp
rhythmic tweets—then in silence—there’s
emptiness—to enter, to become that silence,
ever changed