Resilience

"Despite the devastation, the Haitian people are resilient. Haiti has been knocked down but not out. We will rebuild, and we will be stronger for it."
– Haitian Prime Minister Jean-Max Bellerive

The earth turns
like a sac of hard seeds,
a shift then a rattle,
quail landing to feed
in the red mud, though
I think they are eating
sunflower seeds softened
by rain, my offering.

Whatever I give a bird,
I give the earth, I give
you. Black beak, black cave
of mouth, black shell
opening, then the tender tongue
reaching out, in, pink flesh licking
away hunger, what's left behind,
a green tendril taking root,
a lust for light. Forget
distinctions here. Wings turn
into leaves, words into wind,
these liquid eyes, tentative
sunflowers, mums, daisies,
watching themselves wither
in winter drizzle, yet fully
here. Quail will claw ground
until the scraping of my pencil
flushes them into redwoods.

Can you hear their feathers,
how they sigh and whisper?
Now quiet. Always this sweet fruiting
out of the dry rattle, rubble
of stones, time layered,
before the turning from sun
into haze the color
of plums.