Sometime in the wee hours
the migration broke over
Southern Maine like a wave…
not in a trickle but a flood,
as though somewhere south
a dam had broken.
Yesterday the yard belonged
to the winter shift…
chickadees and titmice,
the occasional Downy Woodpecker,
and the ever-present squirrels…
This morning there are Juncos by the hundreds,
Song Sparrows by the tens, a gaggle
of Grackles, a Cardinal or two,
and even my one-a-year Fox Sparrow
shuffling last year’s maple leaves
where they pile under the Pines,
resting a moment with us
on its way north to breed.
I will admit to having my moments of doubt
in the last month or so, but it is looking
like we will all live to see
another spring in Maine.
Winter has held on,
here in Southern Maine,
way past it’s welcome.
We are marching fast
into the final week in March
and snow and ice still clog the marsh.
Returning birds, expecting buds and bugs,
find cold comfort in a February landscape
and flock to backyard feeders.
And the marsh, normally alive
with bird-song by now,
languishes silent despite
the promise of the spring sun.