Tina Mozelle Braziel
Lay at My Feet
a chorus line of quail
to wind around the saplings that edge
our powerline easement,
a plagueful of toads, so every footfall
sends five hopping away,
springing my toes free to roam this ridge.
Bring me owls hooting from love
and a Bob White to fill the gloaming
with his name. I will whistle it back
just as he called it, responding
to each with courtesy.
Bring me enough sumac to carry
bees through summer’s dearth and crows
through winter. Bring me widening patches
of fire pink and wild iris. Let Chinquapin Ozarks
unfurl leaf. Let them burst burs.
Let them hail chestnuts down, washing every ridge
with an abundance unseen in a century.
Bring me the same resistance, fostered
by hand in seedling after seedling,
so I can overcome my own blights.
And when I’m in the dark, bring me
the light that isn’t mine, pitch-black
pulsing with lightning bugs, the Milky Way
mirrored in this and every puddle.
An Accounting of Birds
‘New study finds birds give people as much happiness as money’
—Anagha Srikanth, The Hill
It takes money to make money,
and birds to weave grass
and hair into nests or daub mud pockets
onto cliffsides. It takes
a summer tanager turning red
to woo a delicate yellow mate
and a nestling blue-jay jumping
to evade the snake. He squawks,
as I settle him in a cedar
for his parents to bring home.
It takes fledglings retreating
to their nest moments before
the storm swoops in.
And vultures turning gorgeous
circles no matter how gray
the sky gets, how hideous
their scrawny necks.
Any bird in the bush
is worth more than all
the tender we might touch.
Tina Mozelle Braziel is the author of Known by Salt (Anhinga Press), winner of the Philip Levine Prize for Poetry, and Rooted by Thirst (Porkbelly Press). She has been awarded a fellowship from the Alabama State Council on the Arts, an artist residency at Hot Springs National Park, and an Eco Poetry fellowship from the Magic City Poetry Festival.