unjumble

 

black-throated sparrow,

feed me with your light-seed

a tap-crack opening on the sill—

 

my prints smudge the glass

the ghosts of my lips, fingertips,

press the pane—

 

your bride’s pale blue eggs

in the scrub, your song

a tinkling bell, twittering dub—

 

sing, ace of spades, sing—

cut through the tie of my tongue

with your song—

live down your name

 

 

© 2025 jennifer wagner

 

 

It’s April and that means poetry month once again!  This poem refers to writer’s block, which I am hoping to avoid since I am challenging myself to commit to posting more poetry this month.  I don’t know if I will be doing this as a daily practice, but we’ll see as my days allow.  And, since I love birds, I’m also challenging myself to include more of them, or an aspect of them, in these April poems. 

 

The black-throated sparrow is also referred to as a desert sparrow.  The black patch on its throat resembles the black spade on a playing card.  It has a delightful song despite its name. 

 

NaPoWriMo Day 1

 

Dear April

image © 2015 Jennifer Wagner,

photo of my home calendar

You don't fool me. Though

you start off that way.

Yes, you slosh rain

from infinity buckets,

but you smile

just the same

from the ground up--

jelly bean tulips and buttery daffodils

springing round

like long-lost jewels.

And even though it's time

for the bogey-tax-man,

you balance him

with a month of poetry

and the crack

of a bat and Big League Chew

(Original, Grape, Sour Apple, and Watermelon!).

So, you're not really fooling me, April,

as much as you think you are.

T.S. Eliot said you are

“the cruelest month,” but

at least more often than in March,

there is guaranteed

one Good Friday

and a Resurrection reminder

(coming back from the dead

really can't be beat).

Plus, your flower is the daisy (my favorite)

or the sweet pea,

which always reminds me

of the song my dad would sing,

“Oh, Sweet Pea, come on and dance with me . . .”

riding along with him in his truck--

after which he'd switch it off

to bellow into the CB,

“breaker 1-9, this is Gladiator.”

No one's dad is as

cool and tough as a Gladiator, right?

So,

you don't fool me, April.

I think you kind of like me.

P.S. I kind of like you, too.

© 2015 Jennifer Wagner

For dVerse Poetics: Let's Write Letters

And, Happy National Poetry month!