3
the falcon confronts the music
the date smudged with names
the grand parade when men leave church
I can’t forget the first stories
the way of birds announces itself
in dark houses and steep stairs
4
rain all spring in the city of umbrellas
they play poker most of the time
the future of morning matters
hear the teacher under the tree
he jumps the line one more time
like tourists outside Versailles
a night with no phone calls, I told her
there are blue wings and white feathers
in your story
6
and always on the stairs the other sister waits
ever restful in the bird note
she thinks sunrise will explain the night before
but mourning is nothing like the movies
it’s orange purple skies and scarred backyard lawns
halfway is the staircase, half stair is the way
the last goes first and red flowers forget
the trail to the summer house; the empty sister
awakens before dawn, the birds don’t care
their clouds speak another language
11
she listens to dreams lost the first day
hills in mist rain, a weekend enough
all the pretty horses, questions, pyramids
days of chemo tubes and baldness
birds ride the last threads of light
12
after a parade on Main Street
ghosts sleep in rock-filled canyons
the Front Range unlocks the night along
red flowers light the trail in summer
tell stories in the treetop, look at the sunset
the woman of birds waits in the kitchen
the sibyl, the bird, all the trapped tales
those afternoons, those backdoors, the wet smell
street shadows, roses, scrubby fields
and mothers laughing
Francie Noyes has worked as a political reporter, business editor and movie critic. She has served as press secretary for Arizona Governor Jane Hull, won Columnist of the Year from the Arizona Press Club and facilitated at the Scottsdale International Film Festival for eight years. Publications include poems in Marco Polo Arts and The Anthology of New England Writers and book reviews in The Critical Flame, Alehouse and Galatea Resurrects. Noyes lives in Boulder, Colorado.
