Sonnet #6

Remember birds – for soon that’s all they’ll be
The memory of birdsong, ghosts that fly
Snap a photograph of birds in trees
And only ghosts will shimmer in the sky

The ghosts of caribou, the ghosts of bears
The ghosts of buffalo and frogs and loons
Creatures large and small that used to be here
They’re not aware that they are dead and gone

Walk through national parks like cemeteries
So much loss, we don’t know what is real
There are ghosts of animals that mournfully
Meander, They don’t know that they’re dead

At night, in tents, playing cards and drinking wine
We, too, will wonder if we’re alive and fine

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