my birdbath

In the studio listening to my fabulous music, hard to sit still, want to dance around the room. Reading poetry and reading my images. They feel as one. 

Outside the cold rain continues and bids me to get brave and come join the shorebirds, maybe yes, maybe no.. But first I need to share this poem that I just discovered.

entitled

AFTER READING TOO MANY POEMS, I WATCH A ROBIN TAKING A BATH

by David Wagoner

She does it so devotedly

In the middle of her most ecstatic spasm

There seems to be no water 

In the murky birdbath at all.

It's all in the air

At once, all showering above 

Her paddling wings or running 

Among her feathers spread like fingers.

She crouches, puffs the white down 

Of her under breast as if settling

On something pale blue, and the water gathers

Beneath her, against her.

Now she thinks a long moment

Without thinking, stares 

North and south at the same time

At nothing.

And suddenly she's all done with it,

Up on the dripping edge, shaking

And sleek, alert, herself again,

Flying into hiding.