A day without birds
salvaged in the last hours
by the alpenglow of
birthday candles on
the kids’ faces and
the Eroica playing its tricks –
after all these years it still
catches me off guard
with every listen  Then
I remember
this morning a chickadee
at the feeder reminding me
as always, of summer camp
back in northern Michigan
where the birds first began
to tell me their stories
and put a small flame
at the tip of my pen
like a birthday candle
like a flare of notes in E flat
major