Migrating in the fall to escape winter,
living only two to six weeks except
for the last generation of the year,
which can live perhaps nine months.
I need flight, escape, migration, a warmer gathering.
“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.” – Lao Tzu
Photo by Somya Dinkar on Pexels.com
The birds are leaving for winter places on this, my birthday. I’m staying here. The seasons are changing. So will I. I don’t know my destination or if I will return here. So it is.
Some who live here have started already
to migrate south, often in breeding pairs.
Snow birds, though they fly from snow.
Mostly white, many older, letting others
fly, feed and care for them.
Feeling the distant pull of the moons,
full and new, horseshoe crabs ride tides
high in spring, full of eggs, spawning
onshore, attracting shorebirds who need the eggs
to survive their long coastal migration north.
but reading that they migrate gives hope.
Their tiny transmitters tracked by airplane-bound humans
navigating Atlantic seaboard songbird flyways.
Though why they do remains a mystery.
The article that inspired this poem suggests that up to 50 of the world’s 5,200 dragonfly species are thought to migrate.
Flocks of sparrows, Fox, White-throated, sometimes White-crowned
following the coastline don’t pull the season.
Snowy Owls may seem appropriate for December
but they are snowy all year long.
I feel seasons. But I don’t move.