Waxwings in  General   

Four Tao philosophers as cedar waxwings
chat on a February berry bush
in sun, and I am one.

Such merriment and such sobriety--
the small wild fruit on the tall stalk--
was this not always my true style?

Above an elegance of snow, beneath
a silk-blue sky a brotherhood of four
birds. Can you mistake us?

To sun, to feast, and to converse
and all together--for this I have abandoned
all my other lives.

By Robert Francis

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Other poems by Robert Francis:

• Blue Winter
• Catch
• Encounter
• Fair And Unfair
• Farm Boy After Summer
• Glass
• Hallelujah: A Sestina
• In Memoriam: Four Poets
• New England Mind
• On a Theme by Frost
• Paper Men To Air Hopes And Fears
• Return
• Sheep
• Silent Poem
• Squash in Blossom
• Summons
• Symbol
• The Bulldozer
• Thoreau in Italy
• Waxwings