The Birdwatcher

The BirdwatcherAuthor(s): Jeffrey GreeneSource: The Iowa Review, Vol. 15, No. 1 (Winter, 1985), p. 32Published by: University of IowaStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20156122 .

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The Birdwatcher -Jeffrey Greene

I couldn't begin to tell

my stepfather what he has missed.

That would take every minute of my time.

What he has missed has nothing to do with what has become of us.

That is of no consequence now.

In the pose of the bittern

there's a balance of forces.

It points its bill straight up into the face of gravity.

One eye looks toward the wetlands.

One eye is planted on me.

It's as if presence is the work of a

simple brain, a double exposure.

My stepfather believed

that we might describe the bittern,

distinguish it, making words

a part of seeing

and, of course, they are

when balanced with affection.

How else could we talk

about the world to ourselves?

What else could sadden us more

than to be severed from the affections

of our own voices?

I can still see him

at dawn on the deck of the cottage, the birdwatcher, the whole man I mean.

32

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