Fathom Mag

Commotion of Birds

Published on:
May 22, 2023
Read time:
1 min.
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I am the split-second silence
of the last sparrow’s tongue—
sweet with sap
and the mystery of how
morning rain

My blood is the rusty beat of
woodpecker madness,
into the veins of spring-rushed spruce,
your throat pale and waiting.

My arms are falcon’s wings—wind wild,
rumpled soft and strong.
I find my child
beneath the first frost
at the foot of the dogwood,
green eyes dark with forgiveness. 

Let me hoist you
to the rosehip of my heart,
press you
to the curve of robin redbreast,
hide you
in the shadow of a thousand hummingbirds.

My song is whispered lark,
is the third rooster,
is a brooding dove—
always ready. 

Hannah Mead
After spending her childhood in the beautiful but rainy country of England, Hannah Mead now lives in the equally beautiful and rainy state of Oregon where she is pursing a degree in English. She spends her spare time inhaling books and boba tea. Poetry has become her favorite art form.

Cover image by Laura ter Horst.

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