Kosovo Spring it was
I digging weeds
Separating chaff from seed
The deck gray with age
A quiet hush from a Western wind grass scented
And weeds high about the house
The frogs now silent in the Winter pond
Kosovo was on my mind
The pain of it echoing in silence
Here, solitude listening to the jays
Squirrels dropping pine cones
In the vast peace
I saw a flutter, heard a sudden thump
There, bird dust on my window and below
On the gray boards the goshawk still
Clinging to the mourning dove
Both dead upon the deck