Poorwill

An eruption from under-hedge, fluttering and dodging

like a moth in a surfeit of light-

with everywhere to turn, turns everywhere-

as if buffeted by wind of its own

wings; then swoops close, hangs a moment

sun-pinioned, wings shot

with light, barred buff-tones and grays

like an x-ray, pinned

in my eyes; only to crumple, and leaf-sway across

courtyard to shadowed foyer,

perching on threshold, a dark knot; then upswerves

to a cornice, brief gargoyle,

and flushes, caroms, corners the building-and gone.

Goatsucker, nightjar: names given the family

of birds, nocturnal, exquisitely feathered to blend

into leafmold, treebark, gravelbed. This bird

I know enough not to recognize

so I search in a book, and find it-poorwill,

this flurry of simile, and a half-swallowed whimper,

wishing only to be invisible.