UNCAGED by Jane Beal, PhD
Green Wall Press Chicago * Denver * San Francisco
Works by Jane Beal Poetry: Sanctuary Songs from the Secret Life (recordings) Made in the Image Tidepools Magical Poems for Girls Magical Poems (Illustrated) Love-Song Love-Song (recordings) The Bird-Watcher’s Diary Entries Butterflies Wild Birdsong Epiphany: Birth Poems A Pure Heart Jazz Birding Sunflower Songs Roots of Apples The Jazz Bird (recordings) Rising: Poems for America Spiritual Aviary for the Year, Vol. 1, 2, & 3 Transfiguration: A Midwife’s Birth Poems After the Labyrinth (private collection) Uncaged Fiction: Eight Stories from Undiscovered Countries Hourglass (in progress) Literary and Cultural Studies: John Trevisa and the English Polychronicon Translating the Past: Essays on Medieval Literature Illuminating Moses: A History of Reception The Signifying Power of Pearl Approaches to Teaching the Middle English Pearl Illuminating Jesus in the Middle Ages
UNCAGED by Jane Beal, PhD
UNCAGED Copyright @ 2017 by Jane Beal ISBN: 978-1-387-12249-3 All rights reserved Acknowledgements: Many of the poems in this collection first appeared on my blog, Bird-Watcher’s Diary (birdwatchersdiary.wordpress.com). “The Crow and the Walnut” also appears in Light, a book featuring a collection of my paintings. “Seeing Things” appears in The Brilliantina Project (online). It memorializes the shooting that took place in Orlando, Florida on June 12, 2016. Thanks to Sadie Baktybek, “Words” appears in Bridgette’s Miracle Room Newsletter. Thanks to Dr. Pradeep Chaswal, “Uplifted” appears in The Muse: An International Journal of Poetry. One poem included here is set in Lithia Park in Ashland, Oregon and another in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Otherwise, my bird-watching for this collection took place entirely in California: at Meadowridge Apartments, Willowcreek Park, and the campus Arboretum in Davis; at Benicia State Park, the Benicia pier, and my “Ireland” in the Benicia hills; Mare Island, Blue Rock Springs Park in Vallejo, and Lagoon Valley Park in Vacaville; Berkeley, Napa, HWY 37, Larkspur, and the Marin Civic Center in San Rafael; Natural Bridges State Park and the Boardwalk in Santa Cruz; Biola University in La Mirada; and the Sacramento Causeway. This year, I identified three new bird species for my life list: the ring-billed seagull, common merganser, and red-necked grebe (all of which have poems to honor them in this book). Some poems in this book allude to the legend of Alcyone and Ceys, the fairytale of the Light Princess and her prince, the movie “Ms. Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children,” Julian of Norwich’s Revelation of Divine Love (although her hazelnut is transformed into a walnut in my poem), the Byrds’ song “Turn, Turn, Turn,” and the artwork of Byrne-Jones for the Kelmskott Chaucer – particularly his picture of Constance on the waves surrounded by seagulls. Images included here with the poems are all in the public domain. The photographs of summer geese in Benicia and a winter seagull in San Rafael are my own. People of importance in these poems are my mom and stepfather, Barbara and Rudy Holthuis, and my sister, Alice, who were with me in Lithia Park. My neighbors, Sadie, her daughter Bridgette, and the beloved Jane Cherry, inspired their own poems. One poem memorializes William Armstrong, President of Colorado Christian University, and others remember Jennifer Franet, my friend who died in a car accident on Christmas Day 2008: my black phoebe, my Great White Egret. But most of all, these poems trace the development of my friendship with Miguel Mauricio Rodriguez this year. (Miguel, I love birdwatching with you!) I am so thankful to God for these and all other blessings. God of all Creation! Of water, earth, and sky! The heavens are your Tabernacle – Glory to your Name on High! THIRD DAY
DEDICATION For Miguel * The Joy of our Spirit is uncaged. Walt Whitman Leaves of Grass *
UNCAGED by Jane Beal, PhD
TABLE OF CONTENTS The Seagull Gives her Life … 1 SUMMER Ashland, Benicia, Davis Life-Cycle in Lithia … 4 Seeing Things … 5 The Beginning … 6 Dreaming … 7 Uplifted … 8 Words … 11 A Dream after the Death of Bill Armstrong … 12 Peacocks in Blue Rock Springs Park … 14 A Scrub Jay Watches a Dancing Girl … 16 What Never Fails … 17 FALL Davis, Benicia, St. Helena, Vallejo The Birds Live with Us … 20 Walking in Ireland … 23 The Birds of Castello di Amorosa … 25 The Transformations of Ms. Peregrine … 26 Water-Birds Seen from the Causeway … 27 Watching a Mourning Dove … 28 Under a Fallen Leaf … 29 Celebrating the 19th Amendment … 30 Black Phoebe in the Pomelo Tree … 31 Ruby-Throated Hummingbird … 32 The Crow and the Walnut … 33 After the Election … 34 Walking in Ireland Again … 35 Haiku for a Dove … 36 Great White Egret on the Wall … 37
The Birds are Back … 38 Seagull … 39 Observation … 40 Ms. Cherry Remembers Two Red Cardinals … 41 Dawn-Song … 42 WINTER Davis, Vacaville, San Rafael, Vallejo Hawk on Chiles Road … 44 All the Birds on Christmas Day … 45 Two Birds on New Year’s Day … 46 After the Rainstorm … 47 Three Sparrows … 48 Blue Jay in Sunlight … 49 Birdsong from Cabo San Lucas … 50 The Birds of Lagoon Valley Park … 51 Our Relationship Is … 52 Dark-Eyed Junco in a Tree … 53 The Elegant Herons … 54 Beyond Memory … 55 Ring-Billed Gull Defends His Territory … 56 A Well-Dressed Rock Dove … 57 Common Mergansers … 58 Diver … 59 Alcyone Before her Transformation … 60 Imperturbable … 61 Byrne-Jones and his Birds … 63 All the Birds on Valentine’s Day … 64 SPRING Davis, Napa, Santa Cruz, Larkspur, La Verne, Kalamazoo, Mill Valley, Sacramento, La Mirada, Mare Island, Benicia Dreams of Strange Birds … 66
All the Tri-Color Sparrows … 67 A Distressed Duck … 68 Two White-Crowned Sparrows … 69 A Startled Flicker … 70 Revisiting Samul Island … 71 Singing Birds in Napa … Lincoln’s Sparrow by the Napa River … 73 White Birds … 75 Birds of Natural Bridges State Park … 76 Red-Necked Grebe … 77 All My Familiar Avian Companions … 78 Baby Chicks in Larkspur … 79 Wishing … 80 Ducklings in the Arboretum … 81 Sparrows Descending … 82 All the Little Goslings … 83 Dark-Eyed Junco on the Bridge … 84 An Irritated Crow … 85 Mockingbird and Crow … 86 Four Sparrows in the Courtyard … 87 Scrub Jay Snapshots … 88 Feeding the Littles (House Sparrows) … 89 The Duck by the Fountain … 90 A Psalm for the Outraged Orioles … 91 A Psalm for the Hummingbirds … 92 Psaltriparus Minimus … 93 Barn Swallows … 94 Bluebird before Me … 95 Seagull on the Moon … 96 About the Poet … 98
THE SEAGULL GIVES HER LIFE She has flown far from shore, but the sea is still calling her. She sees the men in the water and smells the wreckage of a B-17 bomber. She smells their flesh, burning in the sun that shines hot over the water, the human sweat evaporating into the air – the hunger. These men are going to die if I do not give them my life. So this is why I was brought here, listening to the siren-song of the sea – so far from shore, so far from home. She glides down to one man in a raft, and gently lands on the hat covering his dreaming face, and as he moves his feeble hand toward her, and she feels her death in his out-stretched fingers, she does not try to fly away. II. Moments later, her spirit hovers above them, watching them eat her flesh
and then, after a while, using her intestines as bait to catch fish and eat them, too. III. Years later, flying free in heaven, she looks down on Captain Eddie Rickenbacker as he strolls to the pier with a shrimp-bucket and feeds delicacies to swooping seagulls – her daughters, her sons, her granddaughters and grandsons, her great-granddaughters and great-grandsons, who are thankful to Eddie just as Eddie is thankful to her. IV. At the turn of the twenty-first century, she hears the whisper of her story written in books, preached from pulpits, and told by a tired man to his little sister, who opens her eyes in wonder and immediately sees her sacrifice was like the God-Man’s, who came down to die, and so to save the whole, suffering world.
SUMMER __
LIFE-CYCLE IN LITHIA Two Stellar’s jays with their black hoods and blue capes go soaring across our line of vision into the summer pines. A mourning dove flies left above us, a twig in her beak, still busy building her nest for another set of twins. We walk past a pond and see four mallard ducks, all green-headed, —no hens—and one stands apart from his three friends, watching us. On a shaded lawn, we are drawn to the mama turkey with her five young Turks strutting around her like princes. By the stream, between two giant redwood trees, the silhouette of a hummingbird hovers in sunlight from heaven that caresses her alone – our heart, there, dancing in mid-air. After we leave Lithia, my step-father remembers my brother Andrew as a boy chasing pheasants in Arizona. 7/13 Ashland, OR
SEEING THINGS I see things no one else sees: seven seagulls swooping in a circle over a city street – the silhouette of rock dove landing on a rooftop outlined on a plaster wall by the morning sunlight – a truly tiny hummingbird holding still in a pomelo tree under a canopy of green leaves. I hear things no one else hears: like the sound of an unknown bird, startled and crying, when my dog dashes beyond the fence, searching, and I can’t explain this moment any more than I can stop myself from crying for every man killed in Orlando last week. Illuminate the eyes of my heart, O God, and open the ears of my spirit. 7/19 Father’s Day
THE BEGINNING She is standing on a branch, and the sunlight is shining on her yellow hood and white breast, illuminating this little saint in the woods, praying silently. Her mate is hidden somewhere in the interplay of sunlight and shadow, deep in the foliage of some private contemplation. When will I hear the two of you singing together – and will your songs be canticles or jazz tunes? How marvelous that you exist, and this moment has happened, as if I hadn’t been waiting for this metaphor all my life: the beginning. In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth … He created man in his own image: male and female he created them. 6/29 (identification / poem – sighting before 6/28)
DREAMING In the summertime, I sleep with my bedroom windows open. Early this morning, the scrub jay perched in the pomelo tree just outside my screens and began squawking – an avian alarm clock – so that I was awakened from my dream. My dream had been of yellow mustard flowers and tall, thin sprigs of lavender blossoms – of me, in Denver, sitting in an auditorium watching an old friend walk across a stage, graduating with his highest degree, and turning back to wave at his professor in a flirtatious way. Later, I was walking into his university building, which was also, somehow, mine – and I could hear him, his voice, as he was talking in a group of friends, and I didn’t dare to come up to him, where he was, to talk with him, or be with him, but instead sat down in a nearby classroom, still listening. I know his voice so well, and I knew it in my dream better than any bird-call. 7.7 Meadowridge
UPLIFTED Even the silhouette of a songbird on a wire singing as the sun goes down lifts up my heart to God. 7.7 (written 7.8)
BIRDWATCHING WITH MIGUEL after Christopher Cross, “Sailing” I was driving down the freeway to meet you and I looked left: a hawk was sailing alongside of me, utterly beautiful. O my chevalier! In the park, I saw a black phoebe and then a mockingbird: they were the past, flying left and right, distracting our forward vision. We went deeper into the beauty, looking out over the water, and I thought I saw a Great White Egret, but soon realized it was a seagull (and felt silly). Eventually, we turned a corner around the rock formations on the beach, and we saw them: more than twelve Canadian Geese, sailing on the water. They were sailing like ships, silhouetted at sunset, lovely like a fairy-tale I know, closer than brothers, children or tribes. I thought maybe one was a mother, and the birds following her, full-grown, were nevertheless her goslings – for it is summer; spring has passed. It is summer, and I am with you, and watching those birds sailing takes me away to where I always wanted to be, listening to a song from my childhood
listening to a song that makes me cherish you more. 7.8 Benicia State Park (written 7.11)
WORDS If a beautiful bird suddenly came down from heaven, sat on your shoulder, and began to whisper words into your ear that you could understand perfectly, wouldn’t you be astonished? wouldn’t you be amazed? After five years of wordlessness, this week little Saint Bridgette, my neighbor’s daughter, spelled eleven words for her mother to tell her exactly what she wanted: never has the word “sand” been so sweet! Never has “playdoh” brought so much joy! – even if her first word was not “mama,” she has spoken for the first time with letters on a board, spelled out, showing she has understood far more, all this time, than we could have ever hoped or expected, far more than any doctor could ever dream: our prayer went up to God, and the voice of a little bird came back down to us. Praise Jesus for this miracle! 7.12 Meadowridge
A DREAM AFTER THE DEATH OF BILL ARMSTRONG I dreamed I entered the office of a dead man. He was alive and sitting behind his desk. I sat down across from him, facing a shuttered window. I could see through those blinds. We heard a knock and thought it might be someone at the door, but the knock was on the next door: I saw that screen-door open, and the invisible one slip into the other room. We still had time. He was talking, and I was listening when I got up to adjust a light in a tall lamp on the other side of the room: it had a tiny bulb, and the light was flickering out, and I couldn’t make it brighter by turning the switch twice. He asked me to pray for him. So I began, “Dear Lord,” but he said, “No, not dear Lord,” so I began to sing: I love thee, Lord Jesus, I ask thee to stay close by me forever and love me I pray, bless all the dear children in thy tender care – and bring us to heaven to live with thee there. Now he was naked as the day he was born, kneeling in child’s pose on a sloping board that rested on the floor and the bed,
for the desk had become a bed – I looked out the windows again. The blinds were open. A huge stork, three times normal size, was perched on the telephone wires outside: with a long, curved beak and coal-black wings, a Star-bright, white breast, and a twin: a strange angel that emerged to stand beside him. I saw a miracle. Those birds opened their wings and lifted into the air, and they turned toward my right, toward the West, where the ocean was rolling onto the sand, and three black foals were running through the foam, and the silhouette of a little girl was chasing after them all with an ax. 7/18
PEACOCKS IN BLUE ROCK SPRINGS PARK with reflections from Aelred of Rivaulx The little boy with the dark hair is chasing the peacock up the hill – his father is keeping up with him on the journey of discovery. The bird is dancing away, his bright-blue breast and fabulous tail disappearing into the tall grass under the eucalyptus trees. We follow at a distance until we find a place to sit next to one another near the tree where three hens are climbing into tall branches. Here I lean my head against your heart, your bright and shining heart, and read to you the meditations of another age on how beautiful it is that the second human being was taken from the side of the first, so that nature itself shows that human beings are equal and, as it were, collateral (side by side) and life is full of the possibility of spiritual friendship and the taste of sweetness – now the little boy and his father come back down the hill,
but the peacock returns to the tree and climbs higher. Our ears are open, and we hear the birds calling all around us like strange angels. 6/26 Blue Rock Springs Park Vallejo, CA
A SCRUB JAY WATCHES A DANCING GIRL A scrub jay on the balcony looked in through the window as I was dancing: he cocked his head when I came forward and became still more curious when I spun in place, dress swirling – and I watched him watching me, his movements matching mine until the music suddenly stopped and he flew away. 8/6 Meadowridge
WHAT NEVER FAILS We went to the water to see the Pelican – the one, they say, who stabs her breast and feeds her young with blood (like Christ), but there was no bird like that on the little islands by the pier. There were Western Gulls instead, crying out like Alcyone for Ceys, flying over us like the ragged mists of dreams we dream at dawn and, waking, find have told us the truth. We were standing close together, just above the water, like the Light Princess and her Prince, when I noticed the cliff swallows darting over the waves, under the pier where they have hidden their nests and are feeding the future with a constant love that never fails. 8/12 Benicia Pier
FALL __
THE BIRDS LIVE WITH US I. The black phoebe in the fig tree flies to the roof edge as if looking for something or finding it – will she try to build her nest close by? She flies off, and as I walk under the giant green leaves of the fig tree, I see a mockingbird has flown into the space where she was moments before. Did he frighten her away? II. The blue jays are sailing on invisible rivers of air between old oak trees and white-barked birches. III. As I turn the corner to walk the path between the pool and the apartment building, I look up and notice three iridescent gray pigeons: one on the roof, one under the roof, and one on the drain pipe extension. I think: A picture of the Trinity! Then a fourth gray angel flies into their midst: a herald of some mystery I don’t yet know.
Why do the birds live with us? IV. I can hear the hummingbirds, happily coding and decoding among themselves, as I pass the red sugar-water feeder that hangs over my neighbor’s patio next to a sunlit tree. V. In the evening, I walk my dog in the park, past the blackberry bushes by the dry creek-bed. We turn down a dirt path with yellow grass on either side of it. I look up and see the silhouettes of two birds in the sunset-sky – one like a small hawk, the other like a crow. They are hovering because they are hunting something that might hear them. VI. Earlier on the path, I had heard the rustle of a giant turkey vulture above me, and turned, to look back, but hadn’t seen him. My dog was undisturbed.
VII. Lately, I have been remembering the dream I had of a red cardinal who flew out of a pine tree and struck my left hand between my forefinger and thumb: the acupressure point called the valley of peace. Then, in my dream, the bird transformed into an extraordinary parrot from Central America. Years later, I think I may understand my dream at last. 9/3 Meadowridge & Willowcreek
WALKING IN IRELAND Come into my secret country, beloved, and look up! The red-tailed hawk is soaring overhead, sweeping his wingtips against the sky like a painter in love with white clouds. The light is all around us. Let’s hike up this hill, mi amado, and look out on the hills and the water, the eucalyptus trees and the blackberry brambles, the faded, yellow grass I caress with one hand as we pass through it on this little dirt path. The light is all around us. Here is a new Labyrinth! Beloved, someone saw these stones, and laid them in the pattern we find on the cathedral floor in Rouen, and we are meant to pray in this wilderness and find the God who made the heavens and the earth. The light is all around us! Sit beside me on this solitary bench, mi amado, so we can look into each other’s eyes – your eyes are beautiful to me, your eyes and your face, and your mouth is so close to mine, and many of the things you fear will never come to pass. The light is all around us. Let’s go down to the secret pond, beloved, and look at the black coots on the water and listen to the redwing blackbirds singing their praises to God. There’s a little hummingbird, darting so quickly from leaf to leaf, like a green leaf herself. The light is all around us.
O my dear friend! Held here in your arms, my body feels so safe and so warm, my heart feels such gladness – your nearness to me is so sweet, and the bird of my spirit settles like a dove in her nest. La luz es cerca, la luz es aqui con nosotros, yes, the light, the light, the Sun’s light is all around us. And in this light, we see light, we see everything that can be seen with human eyes, and even the eyes of our heart are illuminated, so that we understand new things, inwardly, that we didn’t know before, about time, and eternity, and the love that changes everything. 9/13 Benicia
THE BIRDS OF CASTELLO DI AMOROSA First, the chickens: scratching in the dirt under the vines, grape leaves fanning over them – Later, the ostrich! She’s standing behind a fence at the top of the hill behind a tower. Then, the peacock: female, so dull-feathered, but her neck is gleaming blue and green. She’s alone here, now, on the path, but she won’t be alone for long. Love is calling her beloved from shadow into sunlight! 10/1 St. Helena
THE TRANSFORMATIONS OF MS. PEREGRINE She became a blue bird and swooped into a cage in order to save all her children: How much more did Jesus become man in order to save all of us? 10/2
WATER BIRDS SEEN FROM THE CAUSEWAY After the big baby boy was born at home at last, the midwives drove back from Fair Oaks through Sacramento and across the causeway looking up at the Great Blue Heron like a messenger in the sunset-sky – and at the Great White Egret like a glimmering angel gliding over muddy waters. 10/7 Sacramento Causeway
WATCHING A MOURNING DOVE IN MY NEIGHBOR’S GARDEN I came home from church, tired. I noticed a mourning dove tip-toeing in My neighbor’s garden patch – and she noticed me. I stopped, so as not to startle her. A brash blue jay did that for me. The dove escaped into a green tree. I went into my house. 10/9 Meadowridge
UNDER A FALLEN LEAF This morning, I looked up to see perfectly framed, beyond my sliding glass doors, a bold blue scrub jay scratching in the dirt and burying his acorn, then covering his treasure with a fallen leaf. I see what you have saved for the future, beloved – and I promise to wait until you are ready to bring this seed into the light again. 10/13 Meadowridge
CELEBRATING THE 19th AMENDMENT When I walked to the mailbox to send off the ballot in which I voted for the idea that we are stronger together, and so, naturally, for the first woman President of the United States of America, (who I have personally been hoping for since the third grade when I first learned that there hadn’t been any women presidents in America), I noticed a choir of little gray birds singing in the lemon tree! 10/14 Meadowridge
BLACK PHOEBE IN THE POMELO TREE I woke up listening to the black phoebe chirruping in the pomelo tree: all day long, she reminded me of my closest friend who died in a car accident eight years ago. I walked around outside, and everywhere I went, she followed me. I still see her perched on a street-light, perfectly still – until she takes flight once more. Oct Meadowridge
RUBY-THROATED HUMMINGBIRD When I am troubled or sad, I go for a walk – and look up. Today, when I did this, the afternoon sunlight struck the ruby on the throat of the hummingbird as he turned in mid-air away from the bright-red feeder hung on my neighbor’s second-story balcony to return to the birch tree chittering. That flash of light and color is still shining in my memory. 10/23 Meadowridge
THE CROW AND THE WALNUT I turned a corner. Sun was up, crow was down on the pavement cracking open a walnut with his beak – a distinct sound in the chill morning air. I walked on, then circled back: only a half-shell on the ground, emptied of meat – black crow cawing in a distant tree. Later, I remembered walnuts are good brain-food, the proverbial wisdom that if a nut is hard to crack, then the eater prizes it more – and St. Julian’s vision of the walnut, like the world, held in the palm of God’s hand.
AFTER THE ELECTION My brother was driving down the freeway past hundreds of dark birds on a wire singing for joy as the sun set: he drove back, he stopped, and he recorded what he was seeing and hearing, and he sent the recording to me. I felt the peace that comes when the Spirit expands your heart: and tears fell down my face as the birds lifted into the air like angels flying together toward heaven, free and beautiful like women who have never been held captive, whose wings imprint the sky. 11/10 Southern California
WALKING IN IRELAND AGAIN I went walking in Ireland again: the grass is beginning to green, the paths are muddy from dew and rain, and the birds are busy in the eucalyptus trees – I saw a small hawk skim over the dark pond to settle in a tree with leaves-turned-yellow; I heard the high-pitched snorting of black coots with white beaks, and observed their placid cavorting in circles of water; I noticed a tiny song-bird, a dark-eyed junco girl, sitting pretty on an up-jutting stick before she flew away; then I startled a flock of doves into the sky when I walked by the way were they had settled on the ground for a morning feed. I remembered walking there with you, amado, and hearing the call of the towhee, secret-singer, hidden in a bush far from where we were that day when you put your arms around me, and I knew you wanted my love. 11/11 Benicia
HAIKU FOR A DOVE November morning: one bird flying fast across a blue sky – no clouds 11/15 Meadowridge
GREAT WHITE EGRET ON THE WALL Jennifer, I was in your town meeting two physicists who are expecting a baby in their rented house in the hills where they have hung the man’s photograph of a Great White Egret on the wall: she’s beautiful, standing still, by water surrounded by green life, and her one eye looks out piercingly. 11/17 Berkeley
THE BIRDS ARE BACK I walked out of church, looked up, and saw her: a little blue jay perched in a tree. Then a yellow-rumped warbler swept across my line of vision! I looked around and saw there were so many tiny ones singing in mid-air. Not even December yet, and the birds are back! Who else will come back to me this year? 11/27 UCC
SEAGULL I saw a seagull settle on the ground nearby – still waiting for you 11/28 Vallejo
OBSERVATION Jays, mockingbirds, turkey vultures, and crows are brash and bold, forward, I’m told, but doves fly away when they’re startled. 12/1 Meadowridge
MS. CHERRY REMEMBERS TWO RED CARDINALS You must have a pull-down window with a sash and then you can use this particular bird-feeder. I did, when I lived in our house in the mountains of North Carolina. So many people, when they came to dinner, would just stand and stare! They could see so many birds, close-up, right there out the window above my kitchen sink. I remember two red cardinals: he would fill her beak, and then she would fly off while he filled his after her, and then they both would come back, again and again. They were feeding their babies in a nest hidden somewhere in the woods. I remember that so clearly this cold December, eight years after my husband passed away. 12/8 Meadowridge
DAWN-SONG This morning I woke up to the sound of tiny songbirds twittering in my pomelo tree: yellow-rumped warblers singing their hearts out, calling my soul to awaken to the dawn’s light peeking through the window-blinds. If only my lover were here with me, here with me in my arms – he could hear this sweet music and kiss me with his beautiful mouth. 12/9 Meadowridge
WINTER __
HAWK ON CHILES ROAD Driving fast down the frontage road, with the winter sun shining on a borrowed red car, I looked up and saw a red-tailed hawk keeping pace with me – soaring on the breeze and showing me his splendid underbelly! 12/15 Davis
ALL THE BIRDS ON CHRISTMAS DAY I didn’t know the birds were weeping. They might have been singing praise! The black phoebe, the hummingbird, the distant geese I heard – I thought they were a choir for the most extraordinary birthday the world has ever known. But maybe the Great White Egret standing on the side of the freeway, not wading in the wetland waters should have been my clue that there is no joy on earth not mingled with lingering grief. 12/25 Davis & HWY 37
TWO BIRDS ON NEW YEAR’S DAY Before the sun was up, these birds awakened me – the one singing sweetly, the other complaining. Two different birds with two different stories – even the birds don’t understand each other. Beloved, how can we? 1/1 Meadowridge
AFTER THE RAINSTORM After the rainstorm, all the birds came out: first the black crow in the parking-lot puddle, scavenging for a watery tree-nut, then flying off with it in his beak – the next day, a gray-and-white mockingbird who cocked his head and listened to my whistles and songs – then a shy songbird with a spotted breast, a little Lincoln Sparrow hiding in a green-leafed bush, until he noticed me noticing him – and I was delighted because these beauties had come out of hiding to meet me in the morning! 1/12 & 1/13 Vacaville and Meadowridge
THREE SPARROWS I was waiting to meet my sister at the intersection of Rose and Columbus – when I noticed three sparrows in a bare tree in front of me – like invitations, like valentines, like blessings. 1/14 Benicia
BLUE JAY IN SUNLIGHT Blue jay in sunlight, blue jay in shadow – I remember when you lived in my pomelo tree, when you couldn’t fly, but clambered back up to your nest after you fell – and survived. You remember it, too! I see it in your cocky eye. I love you, blue jay! I love you, bright blue prince. I say all of this to you with my heart, as I stand and you perch, waiting on me, seeking out my eyes – we’re in the eye of the storm, in a moment of sunlight between rainfalls, so I sing to you – O my blue jay in sunlight, blue jay in shadow. 1/19
BIRDSONG FROM CABO SAN LUCAS Sometimes a Prince From a Far Away Country stays with his Princess, but sometimes he must travel.
I will remember how you called me early in the morning, and I stretched in bed, hearing your deep voice all the way from Mexico – I will remember how you listened to me when I said that I cried alone in my room the night before because my brother told me our grandmother has slipped into a coma – I will remember the photograph of the sun rising over the water in Cabo San Lucas that you sent me with your heart, and your prayers, turned toward my heart – I will remember the sound of your voice and the way you spoke of a little songbird who had landed on the railing of the balcony where you were looking out over the water – and through the telephone, I heard the little bird singing her mighty praises to God. 1/19 Davis & Cabo San Lucas
THE BIRDS OF LAGOON VALLEY PARK Two great white egrets are standing in a green field. The shiny black starlings gather by the stream – one perches on a branch and looks at us as we stand next to each other on the bridge. A bright blue jay flies across our path to the oak tree on the right. Two golden-crowned sparrows cling to the heather on the left. Then a lone mockingbird, gray and white, catches our eye. We see the silhouettes of water-birds sailing down on the lagoon. We walk for a while until we notice two mallards, a hen and a drake, and one snowy egret striding on the stream-bank like a defiant little god. 1/24
OUR RELATIONSHIP IS like a bird sitting on a branch looking at a man standing on a bridge: if I fly to your open hand will you feed me, or will you break my neck? 1/24 Lagoon Valley Park
DARK-EYED JUNCO IN A TREE I see you, tri-color sparrow, and you see me – looking at you is like looking at the soul of someone I love. 2/11 Meadowridge
THE ELEGANT HERONS My big backyard stretches out along Highway 37: the elegant herons, white and wintering, stand in the water like angels from heaven whose only message is beauty. 2/14 HWY 37
BEYOND MEMORY Of course you remembered that song by the Byrds: “to everything – turn, turn, turn – there is a season – turn, turn, turn – and a time to every purpose under heaven.” I could not remember the tune until later. Sometimes the same song plays in our hearts at the same time – sometimes not. Here, the seagulls have their own music – a rough breathing, a protest song for purposes beyond memory. Love opens the present to the future. 2/14 Marin Civic Center San Rafael
A RING-BILLED GULL DEFENDS HIS TERRITORY I came here, to sit on this bench, beside my friend, and this ring-billed seagull has come to sit with us and wait for a divine gift from my hand. While waiting, he defends his territory by chasing off the encroachers. But he is not rude, and does not demand anything I have. He waits for me. I wait for him. After a time, I hold a piece of bread, dipped in soup, out to him in a black plastic spoon and encourage him to come very, very close and get it. I can see that he is considering trusting me, and he can smell what he knows will taste good, but finally, I make it easy for him, dropping the bread on the ground, very, very close to me, but no longer in my spoon, held in my dangerous hand – and instantly, he snatches it up, and is satisfied with the prize he was waiting for. 2/14 Marin Civic Center Park San Rafael
A WELL-DRESSED ROCK DOVE This rock dove wears a dark-gray cloak over her body and a shimmering, pink wrap around her neck as she walks by, looking me in the eye, in the company of a number of other noble ladies. 2/14 Marin Civic Center San Rafael
COMMON MERGANSERS I noticed that not all the ducks were mallards. Common mergansers were mixed in! The men were cool interlopers, but the lady looked shocked, her head-feathers blown back spiky and wet like a cosmetologist’s dream – her bird-body, a sleek model sailing down her own watery runway for the camera-eye flashing and snapping in the bright-white, winter sunlight. 2/14 Marin Civic Center Park San Rafael
DIVER Right in front of us, this duck disappears below the surface of the water. Minutes later, he comes up ten feet away! How could he hold his breath for so long? And did he find what he was looking for or did his heart, nearly bursting for want of oxygen, force him to come up for air? 2/14 Marin Civic Center Park San Rafael
ALCYONE BEFORE HER TRANSFORMATION The sunlight on the water is glinting like diamonds scattered across the surface of the muddy pond. The fountain in the heart leaps up to the eternal life of the sky as I watch the white birds fly over it all. 2/14 Marin Civic Center Park San Rafael
IMPERTURBALBE There are so many Canadian geese lying about on the green lawn! Two get up and go for a walk toward the water. I take a picture of the two of them. They take no notice of me. 2/14 Marin Civic Center Park San Rafael
BYRNE-JONES AND HIS BIRDS Not everyone gets to open the Kelmskott Chaucer on Valentine’s Day, and see the woodcuts Byrne-Jones made of Constance, adrift in her boat, with the seagulls wheeling over the waves, but I did: she is looking back, over her shoulder – her hands are clasped in prayer – and twenty-six white birds surround her like promises or grief. 2/14 McCune Room JFK Library Vallejo
ALL THE BIRDS ON VALENTINE’S DAY Great white herons and smaller seagulls, flocks of shimmering rock doves, mallards, common mergansers, and Canadian geese – even a folk-band from the 1960s and their song about turning, even a woodcut of birds wheeling over the ocean in a story in a book from a long time ago – I describe them all, all the birds on Valentine’s Day – except the secret bird of the heart. 2/14 Davis
SPRING __
DREAMS OF STRANGE BIRDS In the first dream, I was showing these strange and wonderful birds to my sister, my dear one, and a few other people. To explain them better, I didn’t so much fly as levitate up to the level of these huge, white avian kinds, sitting on perches made for them on a wall. In the second dream, there was a poet-bird, brown, long, and slender, gracefully gliding over the ground, then lifting into the air – and there were two brown, fatty birds, who could puff out their gullets, and shimmy backward, while bowing and making a turkey-kind of sound. When I wake from my dreams, I don’t always understand what they mean. But the images stay with me.
ALL THE TRI-COLOR SPARROWS I love the dark-eyed juncos! They are my tri-color sparrows. This morning, they are all singing my name. I love you, my little ones!
A DISTRESSED DUCK She was a beautiful mallard – brown and white with a patch of dark blue side-feathers, orange feet, and an orange beak. She was hungry, and she was hunting, her beak dipping into the grass, but coming up empty. She began to cry in distress, making an awful sound, and I wanted to help her. I wished I had bread in my bag, but I didn’t, so I tried to soothe her with kind and gentle words. She didn’t run, but walked away, still dipping her beak left and right, still coming up empty, still crying. At the corner, I had to turn one way, and she another, but I glanced back: two students had noticed her and one of them was mocking that awful sound she was making, and the student suddenly lunged at the duck, frustrated by that sound, but the other student stopped her friend and said, “No, don’t scare her.” 3/2 UC Davis
TWO WHITE-CROWNED SPARROWS Here are these peaceful little birds, proceeding along the ground, pecking at the earth, first the one and then the other, who flies down to join her, and together, these two dear-hearts show know fear. Lord, make us more like these precious sparrows. March Meadowridge
A STARTLED FLICKER The first time I walk around my morning circle, I startle the flicker from her place under a green bush up to the fence and away from my quick pace. The second time I walk around, she’s back in her place under the bush, and I startle her again! My God, this is terrible. How do we humans cause so much distress without ever intending to? March Meadowridge
REVISITING SAMUL ISLAND This mother is expecting her third child. I go to meet her to talk about it. She was born in the Philippines, and she gave birth to her first two babies there: the first breech, as she was harassed in the hospital by doctors who wanted to give her a cesarean, but she refused and pushed her baby out, as one nurse said, “You can do it.” They took her baby afterwards and didn’t feed her for three days. She named her girl-baby, “Precious Jewel,” but she did not conceive again for five years. The second baby was a boy, and her husband was with her this time, and the nurses and the doctor were there, being kind at the clinic, and there were no problems at all, despite a low-lying placenta. She named him “Gabriel Luke” because in a dream his presence was announced to her from heaven. She dreamed dreams before each of her children, and now this third one, she knows, is coming because she dreamed she gave birth but had to leave him at the hospital because she could not afford to bring him home. So she is planning a home-birth: that is what she wants. She has no fear.
I listened and then I showed her a photo album I have of the time I spent in the Philippines: she opened it and showed it to her eight-year old daughter and three-year old son, saying, “This baby is a Filipino,” and to me, “This mother is a Filipino.” And when she saw I had been in Davao City, she said, “That is where my husband and I had our honeymoon,” so I was glad. When she saw the page with all the colorful birds of Samul Island, she said, “Wow!” And I said there had been an aviary there, full of these extraordinary birds, and that is how I saw so many of them: each bird a storyteller, every story a song. 3/24 Sacramento
SINGING BIRDS IN NAPA 1. I knew when I pulled up to my cousin’s place in Napa that there was an unmated male mockingbird perched on the telephone wires above me because he was singing an never-ending love-song. 2. A week after St. Patrick’s Day, my cousin and I went walking down the path that goes through the green, green grass of O’Brien Park walking and talking and waiting for her husband Tim to catch up. A bird’s quick movement caught my eye, and I turned left to see a bright bluebird fly from ground and grass to tree and branch, then turn to regard me as I regarded him, silently but still in awe. You are so beautiful, you take my breath away. 3. When the path curved toward a baseball diamond, I noticed a big bird bathing in a mud puddle: I expected a mallard, but no! It was a black crow. 3/25 Obrien Park - Napa, CA
LINCOLN’S SPARROW BY THE NAPA RIVER Muddy river, tall grass, Lincoln’s sparrow singing – I pause at the sound, lean on the railing, and look: I see you, tiny and beautiful, but when you see me, you stop singing. Sing again, little one – I am walking away, and you are safe in the world! 3/25 Riverfront Park – Napa, CA
WHITE BIRDS From far away, I saw there was a flock of white birds on the surface of the water. One took flight from the river: seagull in sunlight! 3/25 Riverfront Park – Napa, CA
BIRDS OF NATURAL BRIDGES STATE PARK The monarch butterflies flew back and forth in a lazy, mazy motion, flirting like lovers who haven’t seen one another in a long time. Far above the path, three sharp-shinned hawks darted from the top of one tall pine tree to another. The seagulls stayed near the shore. The Great White Egret haunted a green pond. The hummingbird flitted here, there, and everywhere between the hanging leaves of the butterfly sanctuary. There was one bird, like a bushtit, but how could she be alone? Maybe I didn’t really know her name. She disappeared, and I walked back trying to avoid the leaves of poison oak that were flourishing beside the blackberry bushes everywhere I could see. 3/29 Natural Bridges State Park Santa Cruz
RED-NECKED GREBE I saw you when your time had passed, and the red on your neck had faded, but there you were, floating in the water of the Pacific Ocean, not far from the boardwalk, glancing back at me over your shoulder. The sea lions were barking on the wharf as we studied each other and learned something new. 3/31 The Wharf Santa Cruz
ALL MY FAMILIAR AVIAN COMPANIONS All my familiar avian companions join me at daybreak: as I walk, and the light comes into the sky, they sing their little songs of joy – white-crowned sparrow whistling, black phoebe chirruping, mockingbird making melody! Only the Great White Egret wings her way across the cloudless sky above us in silence, glistening. 4/4 Meadowridge
BABY CHICKS IN LARKSPUR I went to Larkspur to have lunch with my friend at a Thai food place with great coconut soup, and while we were there, we heard music, and followed it into a parade of people celebrating spring, new life, and everything – including baby chicks in a silver bucket being adored by small children who were torn between the birds and a tiny carousel with horses painted bright and beautifully. 4/15 Larkspur
WISHING Two years ago, bold, blue scrub jays nested in the pomelo tree, and I watched their fledglings fly. Last year, hummingbirds made their home in the bush outside my bedroom window. This spring, I have been wishing the black phoebes would nest near me, and this morning, I heard the whispery cry of a young bird in the green leaves. 4/18 Meadowridge
DUCKLINGS IN THE ARBORETUM They dammed the water to dredge the stream, so only a trickle remains, and a big yellow excavator squats like an unlikely giant in the mud – across this black mud, little ducklings are darting and down into it, they dig with tiny beaks, seeking what food they may find – as I stand on the bridge and perceive them, and their Mallard mother, modeling the hunt, and I wonder how many will survive this spring. 5/3 Arboretum UC Davis
SPARROWS DESCENDING The sparrows were descending from the tree behind me, over my shoulder to the ground: a girl and a boy, maybe flirting or fighting, but suddenly reminding me not to worry, but watch. (This is when the waitress tells me she has had the worst week of her life, so I stand up and embrace her, before I sit down again, and do not tell her my own losses, so near in time.) The sparrows might have been sung down by my grandma and the angels – my grandma who, in heaven, must know things I don’t, and understand far better why all these things have happened to us. 5/4 La Verne
ALL THE LITTLE GOSLINGS Look at all the little goslings! They swim with their mothers, unafraid of their brothers, huddled together, and then, spread out on the hunt. But the swans of yester-year are gone beyond recall, their nest removed for a new building, and we don’t see them anymore: neither they nor their little ones nor their splendor, white, by the green pond. 5/12 Kzoo, MI
DARK-EYED JUNCO ON THE BRIDGE I cross over a bridge with silver railings into another world. As I am crossing, I notice you, sitting on silver, watching me, and my heart goes out to you with love, little angel – as you fall from a great height, then catch the wind with your wings and soar into the twilight sky over the endless waters of the San Francisco Bay. 5/20 Mill Valley, CA
AN IRRITATED CROW A crow in the oak tree is complaining loudly early in the morning: I look up and see that he is fluffing out is wings with every caw. Another squabbling crow caws back – while I walk past and pray for them to be at peace. 5/24 Meadowridge
MOCKINGBIRD AND CROW Running between the high school and the junior high, serving first in the Resource Learning Center and then in Social Studies, I’m struck by the sight of a mockingbird attacking a crow in mid-air. 5/26 Davis
FOUR SPARROWS IN THE COURTYARD The sun is shining, and I am sitting at a table under an umbrella when I notice them: four house sparrows, three sisters and one brother, some flying around their food, one nestled down to the ground. Your peace captures my attention in the courtyard of this hospital where I am eating my lunch, too, while talking on the telephone to family as my brother lies in bed in room fifty-five of the eleventh floor of the Davis Tower of the UC Davis Medical Center – in pain but waiting to heal. 6/10 Sacramento
SCRUB JAY SNAPSHOTS First snapshot Turn a corner on the path, red flowers behind my back – see two scrub jays in a low branch of the pomelo tree, one fluffing up his feathers – and I can’t tell if this is a mating ritual or the beginning of a squabble. Second snapshot Walk down the path, stepping on dirt, grass, and crunchy oak tree leaves – see a bright blue scrub jay framed perfectly up ahead, on the ground, between tree and bush – but as I draw closer, he hops away and disappears. Third snapshot Not on any path, just looking out the window I see you have come to visit me here at my house, blue scrub jay – now if only I could kiss you, you would turn into my prince! June Meadowridge
FEEDING THE LITTLES These wise house sparrows have built a nest under the roof awning of a cafeteria – and their littles are nestled inside, constantly complaining of their growing hunger – so the parents are going back and forth, and back and forth, between the crumbs on the ground and the open beaks above with a dedication that rivals the faithfulness of the Sun who daily climbs into the sky to shine upon us all. 6/23 La Mirada
THE DUCK BY THE FOUNTAIN The water trickles down from a fountain over the gray stones, making music as it flows into a little stream – and that music invites a female mallard to come close, and she does, unafraid of the peace she will find when she is baptized in the water of Life. 7/24 La Mirada
A PSALM FOR THE OUTRAGED ORIOLES Four big, bright orioles – hooded in yellow, bibbed in black – are enraged at the top of a palm tree: a squirrel has come too close to their nest! The nest is hidden, woven onto the back-side of a green palm leaf, but the intruder is too close, even if he’s paralyzed now by their outrage. Will the squirrel come down – or persist? Will the unborn orioles survive? Contend, O Lord, with those who contend against me! Fight against those who fight against me. Take up shield and armor, and arise and come to my aid. 6/24 La Mirada
A PSALM FOR THE HUMMINGBIRDS Even the hummingbirds have made a home for themselves by the red flowers open like offerings on the altar of this earth before your invisible throne, O God. How much more shall I make this place my home and worship you for placing me in Paradise? 6/25 La Mirada
PSALTRIPARUS MINIMUS I can hear you singing! If you call us, we will come from far away, over a bridge, across the water – past two deer in a field, past the silhouette of two friends sitting next to one another, watching the deer – past the wreck of old buildings that used to make a shipyard, past the new homes that can’t replace what used to be – and up the hilly side of the island until we can get out and walk on the green grass of this secret golf course, where there are so few people and so many of you: psaltriparus minimus! Look at you, gray-winged flock with russet heads: your song drew us, body and soul, to stand in quiet awe before you, tiny angels – before you, tiny singers in God’s angelic choir. 7/1 Mare Island
BARN SWALLOWS SWOOPING OVER MARE ISLAND I knew you were swallows by your silhouettes in the afternoon sun, but not what kind you were until you let me come close: three or four of you, swooping in glory over the green field revealed your true colors to me – blue wings! red chins! white breasts! I see your split tails like children’s kites dancing on the invisible wind. I see your life of joy in the summertime: heaven flying over the earth. 7/1 Mare Island
BLUEBIRD BEFORE ME I see you, bluebird – unexpected at the beginning of the summer season sitting on the spindly branch of the tree before me. I turn away for a moment, and then I turn back to look for you where I saw you before, but you’ve vanished! 7/1 Mare Island
SEAGULL ON THE MOON The seagulls are soaring over the waves of the Bay that shine in the sun as they turn over, frothing white, in the peace of the Pacific – one opens his wings like the arms of Christ on the Cross, banks against the wind, and settles on top of a lamp as yellow, round, and full as the full moon at midnight in a dark blue sky. 7/1 Benicia
ABOUT THE POET Dr. Jane Beal is a poet, educator, and midwife. Born and raised in northern California, she received her BA (Sonoma State University), MA (Sonoma State University), and PhD (UC Davis) in English literature with specializations in biblical, classical, and medieval and early modern literature. She also holds a Certificate in Midwifery from Mercy in Action. She has taught at Wheaton College, Colorado Christian University, and UC Davis, and she has served families in childbirth in the Chicago, Denver and San Francisco metro areas as well as internationally in Uganda and the Philippine Islands. She now teaches at the University of La Verne in southern California. In addition to Uncaged, she is the author of other poetry collections: Sanctuary, Made in the Image, Magical Poems, Tidepools, Love-Song, Butterflies, Epiphany: Birth Poems, A Pure Heart, Sunflower Songs, The Roots of Apples, Rising, Transfiguration: A Midwife’s Birth Poems, and After the Labyrinth (private collection) as well as her Birdwatcher Trilogy, The Bird-Watcher’s Diary Entries, Wild Birdsong, and Jazz Birding and Spiritual Aviary for the Year, Volumes I, II, and III. She has made three recording projects combining poetry and music, Songs from the Secret Life, Love-Song, and, with her brother, saxophonist and composer Andrew Beal, The Jazz Bird. She also writes fiction, creative nonfiction, and academic studies of literature and collegiate pedagogy. To learn more, visit http://sanctuarypoet.net and http://birdwatchersdiary.wordpress.com.