Report: September 29
It was the Feast of St. Michael which means
that twelve years ago, my mother died.
The ivory billed woodpecker is extinct again
and the long dream of progress is over.
A friend called while I was making salad
to report a monarch
on a goldenrod stalk.
What did I think she should do?
We talked, and pondered
what we know. Orange,
thus inedible. Late emergent
or tired migrant does it matter?
She left it under a hosta
with a nectar bouquet.
In the morning, it was gone,
we told ourselves, on its way