The warble of melting snow is the river

O

Once there was an opening, an operation: out of which oared the ocean, then oyster and oystercatcher, opal and opal-crowned tanager. From ornateness came the ornate flycatcher and ornate fruit dove. From oil, the oilbird. O is for opus, the Orphean warbler’s octaves, the oratorio of orioles. O for the osprey’s ostentation, the owl and its collection of ossicles. In October’s ochre, the orchard is overgrown with orange and olive, oleander and oxlip. Ovals of dew on the oatgrass. O for obsidian, onyx, ore, for boreholes like inverted obelisks.

Claire Wahmanholm

2020

Pastoral

I watched my old life go by like television.

Slopes of grass whipping against bright blue skies,

Objects some called tools

And others, totems.

A woodpile, a sheepskin,

Garlic curing from the rafters;

A river’s loose slaps upon slabs of warm rock.

Hanae Jonas

2021

Sleepers

A black-chinned hummingbird lands
on a metal wire and rests for five seconds;
for five seconds, a pianist lowers his head
and rests his hands on the keys;

Arthur Sze

2019

Poems

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The warble of melting snow is the river

O

Pastoral

Sleepers

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