In the Cottonwoods

[Thunderembargo]

In the Cottonwoods
 
In Cottonwoods the bluebirds sing
like all the world’s beneath their wings
with throats that won’t be choked with fear,
che-cheek my dear, che-cheek my dear,
I know you must be listening.
 
A moment’s silence for the king
who chirps, this is the only thing—
a vaccine for the atmosphere
and the Cottonwoods.
 
Its necessary evil stings
our every grandson’s neck, and brings
a swelling to the inner ear
that damps the last che-cheek my dear,
and tags the lofty bluebirds’ wings
in the Cottonwoods.

Was very intrigued by the poem.   The contrast between the ideation of whiteness that comes from the concept of a cottontree (one immediately thinks of this sharp and blank color) with the actual color of the same tree is an interesting relief to the observations of the poet.   One wonders if the poet was watching humans or at least human behavior and replacing his observations of them with the mysteries of the science of ornithology; or had the poet, somewhat like Audobon who came before, made close and detailed drawings of bluebirds in any kind of tree---it need not be cottonwood.   The poem is very refreshing and cathartic.