The Grapevine Art & Soul Salon

Habersham Waxwings

They are here a few spring days each year
just enough time to rob the holly bushes
of the red fruit that even squirrels won’t touch.
A raucous scramble of dipped-in-yellow tails and clattering wings
and then like a flock of starlings, which they don’t resemble at all
except in their mad haste and orchestrated careers across the sky, they are gone.
The holly bushes remain, now uniform green and rooted in their chosen spot
while the red berry memories fly away north on the waxwing tips.