BIRD KISSES 

by Anna Sims Bartel

BIRD KISSES

When my boys were small, my husband and I would leave for work
Same time different directions. Our sons
Would smooch their tiny palms, blowing Papa kisses,
But he was behind them, long gone down the street.

What happens when you blow a kiss in the wrong direction?
I answer, brief and certain:
Kisses are smart; they fly faster than any car;
they find their person no matter where they are.

My kisses are shaped like hummingbirds.
Mine are shaped like bluebirds. Blue and RED.
Yes, because bluebirds are your favorite birds.
But not blue and red, blue and orange.

Is every bird a kiss incarnate? Its color and character contained?

We give bird kisses now when we leave someone somewhere.
Yesterday I stood on the sidewalk in the warming morning,
Unwilling to go inside, to face the chill.
Wait Mama! You need bird kisses!

I give you a golden eagle, because it’s stronger than a bald eagle,
It’s the strongest bird.
I give you a great blue heron, it is your favorite, and it is graceful.
Husband: I give you the roseate spoonbill, because it is the most interesting bird.

I gave them red-tailed hawks and goldfinches and egrets (which can
open their wings and step lightly over every dark thing*),
and clutching those feathers (strong, graceful, interesting) to my chest,
Turned toward the difficult day.

*Mary Oliver, Egrets

Once described as “part activist, part administrator, and part academic,” Anna Sims Bartel earned her Ph.D. in Comparative Literature at Cornell, where she now works with Engaged Cornell. Anna’s background includes faculty work and public humanities initiatives as well the development of community-engagement capacity, culture, and infrastructure. Her research interests all center on making the world a healthier, more beautiful place, which is also how she comes to poetry. Anna enjoys the things that support chronic hope: the chaos of her young family; being in, on, or near moving water; the smell of dirt and the good things that grow in it.