Bev Tappan

Category: Bird Poems

Lifted by flight and song

  • Bev reads at ESOM – 11/21

    Ellen Schmidt Open Mike on November 15, 2021

    • hosted by Dan Tappan
    • Eclipse Moment (A Sonnet For Sarah and Mark)
    • Cold Weather Friends

    Ellen Schmidt Open Mike – November 1, 2021

    • hosted by Dan Tappan
    • All Hallow’s Day
    • Buyer Beware

  • Bev reads at ESOM – 10/21

    Ellen Schmidt Open Mike on October 18, 2021.

    • hosted by Dan Tappan
    • White Mountain Art
    • A Show Of Colors (Autumn 2016)
    • On October 12th

    Ellen Schmidt Open Mike on October 4, 2021

    • Dan Tappan host
    • A Recollection
    • My Grandfather’s House

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: COLD WEATHER FRIENDS

    COLD WEATHER FRIENDS

    The juncos are back.

    It feels like winter.

    They’re sheltering in

    The bushy blue spruce

    Where finches have nested

    In balmier weather.

    They won’t fly south

    In retreat from the cold

    But keep on the move

    Seeking out seeds

    In sizable flocks

    Giving us hope

    Bringing us cheer

    For another new year.

     

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: ON THE CUSP OF SPRING

    ON THE CUSP OF SPRING

    It’s snowing again and yet

    The yellow crocus has bloomed

    On the lawn, the finches are back

    To their nest in the blue spruce.

    Flocks of robins have landed

    Each to claim his purlieu

    His own particular tract

    In which to cock his head

    And listen for worms.  The bands

    Of redwings have returned

    To the pond.  We hear their chirr.

    A bevy of female mallards

    Was seen on the tidal river

    Along with a Canada gang

    Of geese heading north.  The cardinal

    “Cheer cheer”s his mating call.

    And yet it is snowing again.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: WAKE UP CALLS

    WAKE UP CALLS

    I heard the crows; their raucous cries

    Awoke me from a restless bed.

    I did not know what rude surprise

    Their harsh insistence might portend.

    The day was sunlit, clear and cold.

    I saw no reason for alarm,

    But on my neighbor’s patio

    The usual bread for birds was gone.

    And then it was I understood

    What their complaints had been about.

    No imminent evil was foretold,

    Just calls to send their vittles out.

    So let it be with all alarms:

    False, and signaling no harm.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: ON OCTOBER 12

    ON OCTOBER 12

    A cacophony of geese flew by

    As drivers all used to do

    Honk, honk honking vociferously

    In the streets of Lima, Peru.

    As we watched, they shifted formation

    Forming two separate Vees

    But maintaining their congregation

    With graceful and admirable ease.

    We knew where they were headed

    Though they were soon out of sight

    Bound for warm waters, determined

    To leave behind long wintry nights

    And we applauded their foresight

    Well aware that their instinct was right.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: BIRD LORE

    BIRD LORE

    “I saw an eagle in a tree!”

    She cried.  “I know it was an omen

    That God intended me to see.

    And yesterday I saw a hawk

    On top of a telephone pole.

    Oh how I wish it could have talked

    And told me the meaning of it all.”

    The pagans thought birds could predict,

    And Indians tell us what they mean.

    An eagle is a holy spirit.

    A hawk is wisdom with vision keen.

    There is much comfort in such beliefs

    Though eagles do winter on our bay

    And hawks seek prey on our highways.

  • CUBA POEMS: AT BREAKFAST

    AT BREAKFAST

    Blackbirds soar across

    The al fresco cafeteria,

    Alight on a plate of melon,

    Dance on it,  pick at it

    And squabble about it

    Until the diner approaches

    And we consider whether

    We should advise the lady

    That her fruit has been pre-

    Tasted and appreciated.

    At last pity prevails.

    We warn her of her visitors’

    None too sanitary intrusions.

    She settles for an espresso.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: THE COMING OF SPRING

    THE COMING OF SPRING

    It begins with the house finches

    Reclaiming the blue spruce

    In early February

    Unfazed by lingering inches

    Of snow or cold,  using

    Their last year’s sanctuary.

    And then the cardinal calls

    From behind the garages.

    A crowd of robins assembles

    To sample a pear tree’s largesse.

    By now it is March.  Snowdrops

    And purple crocus are showing.

    Maples turn red.  Willows

    Turn yellow.  A circle

    Of lady bluebirds flies close

    To my daughter’s Dunstable windows.

    Today is the first of April.

    Forsythia blooms beside daffodils.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: NEIGHBORS

    NEIGHBORS

    The house finches are back!  They

    Did not wait for spring.

    On February’s bitter days

    They flitted insouciantly

    In and out and about the

    Prickly arms of my spruce tree,

    Several of them for a while,

    Last year’s nestlings perhaps,

    Until an agreement was reached:

    This year’s duo domiciled.

    Meanwhile March has bustled in

    With transient snow and wind.

    Now that spring is in the air

    They’re a happily settled pair.

  • ECUADOR POEMS: OUR PLANETARY PROBLEM

    OUR PLANETARY PROBLEM

    Our cabana overlooks an Andean

    Valley lightly flecked with clouds

    That keep these jungle forests green.

    Before me hangs a feeder used by crowds

    Of hummingbirds of every stripe and hue:

    Tawny, black and white, scarlet or teal.

    But this is an aerial warfare view

    Far from a peaceful bucolic scene.

    These winged warriors swoop and dart

    At any color but their own,

    Briefly sip with kindred cohorts

    Then shoot the alien flyers down.

    Who’s unlike me must be my foe:

    A rule that every earthling knows.

  • ECUADOR POEMS: AT THE RIO COSANGA

    AT THE RIO COSANGA

    We left our San Isidro cabanas

    And stopped at the bridge on the Rio Cosanga

    To search for the elusive yellow duck

    For which we were not to be in luck.

    However, blue swallows sat on a rail

    Preening and flipping their wings and tails,

    Then dipping and swooping in widening arcs

    Snapping up insects above the rocks

    Where the river rushed in a foaming flood

    Fed by the weeping clouds above.