Spring

By: Mary Paulson

Some small black bird

with a yellow beak like a

toothpick knife

jabs restlessly in the grass. He stops,

glares at me and I’m struck with the thought

that I should know

his name. You would have known it and

all about the green shimmer of his

top feathers, about the song he sings, the females

he likes, the carry of his wings

on air. I remember you at our kitchen table

with your bird books. Mary,

you would say, pointing at the large bay

window, see the Tit Mouse, the Robin, the Red-Winged

Blackbird. Look at the Mourning Dove.

Isn’t he beautiful! Teenage,

angsty, enraged

without knowing why, I

shoved you away in ways that were cruel—

Mama, I’ve moved into a little

house ten blocks from your favorite sea. I’m having

my coffee and the birds in the backyard

are shrill and chatty

as schoolgirls de-boarding their bus.

Yesterday, there was a tall white feathered

bird with long, graceful legs just standing

in the grass and I thought

maybe it was you.

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Mary Paulson’s writing has appeared in multiple publications, most recently in DASH Literary Journal, The Pomegran-ate London, Amethyst Review, Sparks of The Pomegranate London, Vita Brevis’ ANTHOLOGY IV, Hare’s Paw and VAINE Magazine. Her debut chapbook, Paint the Window Open was published by Kelsay Publishing in 2021. She lives in Naples, Florida.