Birding at Lemon Bay

Bluebird Pair

by Karen Luke Jackson

For weeks, I tried to spy a nesting pair
through a mounted white pipe;
peered at moss-padded sticks lodged
in the crown of a longleaf pine.

Today, on this needled trail
where gopher turtles sling sand,
woodpeckers jack hammer, and mullet
dead from red tide stench the air,

an eagle executes a flyby,
like God who sails into sight
when I quit straining.

Hindus claim divine
has a thousand names,
Sufis ninety-nine,
and Christians
three-in-one

while Jews
refuse to utter
a string of consonants
which, if whispered
under the breath,
can crumble a body
into trembling earth.

So I’ll cease my search; instead
marvel at the scamper
of a tiny lizard, scaling
a wooden bench, dialing
colors to match.

Karen Luke Jackson
Paying attention, turning to wonder, and giving voice provide a latticework for Karen Luke Jackson’s writing. Her award-winning poems have appeared in Ruminate, Friends Journal, Broad River Review, Kestrel, The Great Smokies Review, and Kakalak. Karen lives in Flat Rock, NC. When she’s not writing, she companions people on their spiritual journeys.

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