Bird Man

In his younger
years, when he was
bung-full of sap,
the mere shadowing
of a swallow
jetting past
would spook his wool-
gathering gaze.

But now, the blue jay’s
jeering and juking
and the mocking
bird’s mania
and the mourning
dove’s rugged flute
are all drummed up
inside his napping.

Like funneled swifts
down deep chimneys.