Neighborly

Elisa A. Garza

November 6, 2022

Birds are the neighbors I know best.

I walk the neighborhood each morning, 

head tilted to canopy, hoping to spy 

drumming woodpeckers or tittering Blue Jays.

In the high dead branches of the Chinese Tallows

that I call the dovecote, the White Wings perch

by the dozens, as if surveying our street.

Or, on the tallest branch, a lone Mockingbird will sing,

jumping up, wings spread like arms in greeting.

When I walk with my camera to a new street,

long lens seeking songsmiths on lower branches,

a woman drives up asking pointed questions, 

another makes accusations through her doorbell camera,

and I trek back toward home, to my own yard.

My footfalls have startled birds to move, 

pine to pine ahead, my personal avian scouts.  

Once, I watched a hawk hunting in pathway trees.  

Each time it swooped in, another bird flew out at an angle.

They are sharper than most believe, these neighbors,

to match my steps, but not the hawk’s route,

to understand the habits of both the friend, and the foe.

Elisa A. Garza, a native Houstonian, has published two chapbooks, Entre la Claridad (Mouthfeel Press, soon to appear in a second edition) and Familia (The Portlandia Group). She has taught students from elementary through senior citizens in public schools, universities, and community programs. Currently, she works as a freelance editor.