An interconnected family of supernovas burning bright in the night sky: take a moment, reach out—join us.
Flashmob in Goldfinch & Brass
Goldfinch gossip on the seawall, peck to treat
and charm the passerine way, filling in as backing
group to the park bandstand, where the brass section
tune up for the Ode to Joy, just as the percussionist
crashes his cymbals and all are sent into silence
to begin, quietly for brass, so the birds tremulous,
tuneful warble floats for a moment, above
the rising rumble of gathering sound, above trumpet,
trombone, tuba, and euphonium, until redcaps,
the siskins in their midst, must desist and open
wide mouths to sing astonishment
at such a sound, we find it here too, in this moment,
the Ode overwhelming, over-spilling our own
capacity to be contained out here in the open, where
old men at chess cry freely, nannies and children stamp
their feet in time, their charges swing from lampposts,
conducting wildly and as the rousing drumbeats ring
out the finale, the green, green world erupts into cheers,
into thunderous applause
and the finches ghost fast, flash red and gold, depart.
About the Author
Sarah Wallis is a poet based in Scotland. Recent work is at Beir Bua, The Madrigal, and Spectra, and forthcoming in The Broken Spine and Inksounds with original music. She has two chapbooks, Medusa Retold from Fly on the Wall Press and Quietus Makes an Eerie from Dancing Girl Press, with How to Love the Hat Thrower due next year from Selcouth Station. She tweets @wordweave and you can find out more at sarahwallis.net/.