Invisible Visitors, by David Budbill

I’ve been traveling so much this year, this poem really resonated with me…just passing through, just passing through, just passing through…

Invisible Visitors

All through August and September

thousands, maybe

tens of thousands, of feathered

creatures pass through

this place and I almost never see

a single one. The fall

wood warbler migration goes by here

every year, all of them,

myriad species, all looking sort of like

each other, yellow, brown, gray,

all muted versions of their summer selves,

almost indistinguishable

from each other, at least to me, although

definitely not to each other,

all flying by, mostly at night, calling to each

other as they go to keep

the flock together, saying: chip, zeet,

buzz, smack, zip, squeak—

those

sounds reassuring that we are

all here together and

heading south, all of us just passing

through, just passing

through, just passing through, just

passing through.

– David Budbill

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2 thoughts on “Invisible Visitors, by David Budbill

  1. I live in an area on the migration route for so many species, including humans. This resonates with me too. Sometimes I’m the one passing through a place, a phase, a moment.

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