Three long-necked sandhill cranes fly over the house.
V shaped flocks of geese sound a collective cry.
Woodpeckers drum.
Magical dragons are stirring….
All who listen hear that the skies are shifting, avian travelers are underway.
Juncos, cactus wrens, sparrows, doves, towhees peep and scratch
in a tangle of vines, rosy willows, and old papery leaves that tumble around under bare-leafed trees.
Magpie replies to inquiries made about his health,
a study in black and white, he mimics Kachinas
who have been biding their time in volcanic hills and calderas, conversing with deer…
I leap out of bed to glimpse an orange globe rising.
Lily, my house dove, Lily rings in the hour.
Delicate sea green rosettes appear, mandalas spiraling on the desert floor.
Tufts of furry gray blue sage emerge – still wrinkled from sleep.
Red Willow River sings her love song of life bringing water
to the fierce white heat of a rising sun.
Working notes:
I wrote this poem after seeing the sandhill cranes flying over sand-colored earth and the blue-green river as I was feeding my birds yesterday morning. Birds always usher in spring before anyone else seems to notice with their songs and also because many of our bird species migrate. This year I just learned that the northern flicker that migrates from here in the mountains of Northern Mexico is not the same one that comes to Maine! Northern flickers that fly east have bright yellow underwings, while those that go west are painted a brilliant orange.
After too many long Maine winters I am delighted to be experiencing spring-like temperatures in early March. Here in New Mexico the first buds are swelling and desert perennials (some with spikes!) are greening up from red, buff, or sand-colored earth. As an earth person, by which I mean a woman whose body/mind is exquisitely tuned to the nuances of each season, I am particularly grateful to be experiencing a warming sun, buds swelling, a river flowing, and birds singing during this “Month of the Mothers” without a thick white crusty blanket covering the ground.
March is the month when the waters begin to rise… In ancient times, the first Mother’s Day was celebrated March 25th, just after the spring equinox, when increasingly intense light awakens plants and animals from their winter sleep.
Around here sleeping dragons stir. Originally written on 3/4/17.
(Meet Mago Contributor) Sara Wright.