Priscilla Long

First Light

Out the window the paper birch
is deep in winter rest. No sign
yet in this Pacific Northwest
garden of squirrel or crow
or sparrow or dark-eyed junco.
I spent my childhood
looking out the window
at birds. Now I am old. In the news
Los Angeles burns down.
The forthcoming terrors
are here. But this living birch,
so quiet, its bark
papery white and copper
is also here. I hold on to that.