The Audubon warblers keep the time of their coming, Arriving on stillness of a storm, Their breast and backs as dark as low bruised banks of cloud, Rumps and throats as yellow as blooms of buckwheat. They throng this evening in the newly-leaved Tender-tipped canopies nervously weaving Through the catkins like frantic prophets  Bearing… So … Continue reading Audubon Warblers by Kevin Cole — American Life in Poetry →