Dirge for Reasonable Birds
In the false time
before true warmth, American robins fly North
too early, too eager, and starve.
They freak and scream in the trees
all at once, like fangirls for spring light.
It’s happening earlier every year—one hungry
January day they wrenched worms from my yard
and then there were guts
swaggering pinkly against the sky.
Me and the neighbor lady gawked on our porches like
oh my god are you seeing this?!
After, we or maybe I
went back inside relieved to find
normal life: the fridge hum, clocks.
Today, Chelsea said it is extra sad to mourn what is still alive
and ebbing—an endangered species, the engagement
I know will fail, reasonable birds.
The world, and me like
World, what can I do?
All of us saying that.
SOPHIA TONE is a poet who recently earned her MFA from Hollins University. She enjoys eating at diners and has a particular fondness for Roanoke's Texas Tavern. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in HAD, Bullshit Lit, Memo, and elsewhere. Find her on IG @lilso3.