this morning i saw two
then seven quail
pop to the top of our fence.
the males wore crisper whites and blacks
in patterns about the head and crest,
a rich auburn breast,
while females tended towards gray,
elegant in their more demure way.
the seven sat feather to feather
(no youngsters close by,
it being late november)
their heads bobbed up and down,
necks turned back and forth,
seven fat quail on our fence this morning
busily taking a quiet moment in the sun
before hopping down one by one
to forage beneath the orchid rock rose.
are my eyes wired directly to my spirit?
i only know that last year a western tanager
flashed brilliant yellow and orange
among the oaks and thus burned
a hole into my soul.