What the Robins Gave Me

Looking for Whales from the Amate.

Looking for Whales from the Amate.


At twilight, the primaveras sing a song they only sound at that time. It is a whale song, sonorous, one note suspended, traveling with palpable vibration. I couldn’t tell what kind of animal it was, a bird or a bug, the first time I heard it; with eyes closed, it was easy to imagine whales floating over the Piedra Rahada.

As wind through the corn in September sound like waves, and the rustling of amate leaves, with just the right breeze, in June, is indistinguishable from rain on a sunny afternoon; the primavera’s song reminds me– that everything is one. This is how I came to write the poem I recite this week. The robins gave it to me.


I am in cahoots with the wind
Imagine the Sailor!
I scarcely can I am afraid
Of depths

Once I complained
To a friend about mountains
“They’re always in the way
Of the horizon”

“Yes, but what of the view
From the top”
She whispered

Embarrassed, I promise
Never to be so
Blindsighted again

To this same friend
I said, “I want to
Throw myself into the wind”

And did
For a half a life and back
This is what I learned there

The wind is with us
Inner zephyr
Maelstrom and middling

The door of breath swings
A screen in spring
And unabated

I just can’t help but say,
How can anyone not see?

That the wind
Are waves
And the waves
Are leaves
And the leaves
Are rain
And the rain
A breeze
The breeze
Is a whistle
The whistle
A bird
The bird
is a song
The song
A whale
The whale
An eddy
The eddy
A wave
The wave…




What gifts has nature given you?



A Burning


Some may say crackle
others pop, a crinkling
sound, but listen
It is the rush of
water within fire
The burning slithers
down the mountain
it blows too, no, it’s not
the wind’s feeding, it is
fire’s voice
The elements share this
alchemy, right in front of our senses

You don’t believe me?
Listen for yourself;
transform flesh
over flame-release
love’s ashes
windward-dive into
the body water is
known to be, you are
guilty but you may come clean
if you believe
their earthbound mantra can redeem
your white noise of denial

© 2013 Abby Smith, Writer