They feel it--
yes!  The atmosphere ballooning,
this cold front's pressure dome
buoyant to their airy bones.
 
They are launching
from every New England ridgetop.
 
All week they've preened
drizzle-heavy plumage,
their taloned grips fidgeting,
eager to leave perches
but held to their boughs
by sloppy air.
 
Each day's shorter allotment of light
has goaded:  be gone!
 
The spanking high surges in
and they ride its bow wave
surfing across its northerly blow,
flocks scudding southwest.
 
When mid-day builds thermals,
they'll seek the towering airs
and swirl, a jubilation of hawks
mounting without a wingflap
into the cumuli, and beyond--
Panama, Colombia, Ecuador.
     
     "The Big High" was originally published in the COA Bulletin (Connecticut Ornithological Association).

Polly Brody has been published in many literary journals and has received numerous awards for her writing. She is the author of three books of poems:  Other Nations (poetry), The Burning Bush (essays with poetry), and At the Flower's Lip.

 

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Updated  10/27/09