This Time an Oriole Poem

Son writes: "The other week, I saw an oriole at the birdfeeder. I had never seen that bird before. Except on the bill of a Baltimore Oriole’s baseball cap. What is it about birds and their ability to enthrall us with just their presence? Or cause me to write another bird song"

Oriole

Placing some orange suet in
the bird feeder I waited for
an oriole to show. It did.

I never saw an orange-colored
“anything” quite like it! Edged
with black, it blazed—then raced away.

I never took a photograph
but I remember every aspect:
it was daybreak and the orange

sun was rising; I spotted an orange
bird while eating a slice of orange;
I stopped to call you on my orange

telephone; your voice grew orange
as you asked about each orange
feature; I answered it was orange

and you breathed an orange sigh;
the oriole took wing and left
us oranges that multiply.

~Son Rivers 2005

"Yes, with the oriole, it was its orange. I’ve never seen the color quite alive like that before. It’s burned into my retina. I've become an oriole in my mind's eye. Everyone is now an oriole. They say the color of the universe is close to white, but I now know it's really orange."