Kurt R.A. Giambastiani

In the cold air of evening
Wrens forage on a red-barked tree
Cry here here here

Robins flee from my footstep
Eye me from amid apple blossoms
Coughing rum-rum-rum like old cars in the morning

Juncos steal past below me
Seeking midges mid-air
They leap silently through the gloaming

Sunset breaks the lidded sky
Limns the buds of maples
In the cold air of evening