Biophilia

That the blind—

sight taken

by tumor or gunshot,

diabetes or a blow

to the head—

rarely venture

outside is not true.

I have seen

their cloudy faces

pressed to warm wind

as though to watch

the voice of it—

a bird, recognized

though never

seen—and thus,

claim it.

~

Spotted first in Virginia:

blind house finches,

sight ruined by contagion

and cut from the flock,

scouring the ground for seed

spilled beneath suburban

feeders. I have seen them

rise on a downstroke

of stiff wings and keel, poxed

eyes sightless,

           each bird heavier than the air

through which it climbs.