North Carolina Bird
by Jill Cox
What kind of bird sings
vehicle vehicle vehicle?
A North Carolina bird seems driven
to let loose these syllables
that I second guess, ear to the window screen,
but truly the song is vehicle vehicle vehicle,
about twelve quick bars of it
before being swallowed by the plunk of pecans
on the tin roof of the gray barn out back,
and the rattle of cicadas that crescendos,
and the asphalt whoosh of the morning’s trucks
rolling by on a road
connecting two-lane highways.
Then, for a time, it’s quiet as a hiding place,
and yellow butterflies tremble
aster by aster all afternoon.
Jill Cox has published poems in Appalachian Review, Chiron Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, and others. She has won national poetry competitions and a “first chapter” contest. Having lived all over the country, she landed in Louisiana, adopted a groovy cat named Ned, and became a librarian. Instagram: @jill.vogt
