Ode to the Passenger Pigeon - ectopistis migratorius - Poetry - Poem
James ClarkeOn September 1, 1914, Martha, the last passenger pigeon died in a Cincinnati zoo
I'd like to have been there in spring when you flocked to the Saugeen, thicker than the green hair of earth, your sleek, pointed wings & long, slender tail darkening the air. I'd like to have heard the threshing of your wings passing overhead like a hard gale at sea or the deep, booming basso of Niagara. I wish I could have gazed at your iridescent feathers, amazed at the flickering greens & purples in changing light, a streamer of shot silk unravelling the noonday sun & visited your rookeries, a white longhouse strung for miles Across woods & fields of Amabel and Albemarle as far north as the lands of the Ojibwa, trees uprooted by the weight of your landings. Oh how I wish I could have been part of your journeyings, held your frail bones gently in my hands, cupped the feathered softness of your beating heart just once.
--James Clarke writes from London, Ont.
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