‘The Spring Has Come’ and Other Poems by Adam Steinle

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The Spring Has Come

The mating call of the black-capped chickadee
(a North American songbird) sounds like “Hey, Sweetie!”

“Hey, Sweetie!”—this is what you say.
Small chickadee, it is your way
to signal interest in your mate.
You sing and chase—and often wait—
until she deigns to make your day.

A furtive “cheep,” and friends will stay
well hidden from a bird of prey.
When skies are clear, your life is great:
___“Hey, Sweetie!”

Though studies now are underway,
the birders feel, with sharp dismay,
that what they’ve learned has little weight,
for all their efforts to translate
resulted in just one cliché:
___“Hey, Sweetie!”

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Nature’s Paradox

So many people feel a peace of mind
when resting near a forest, stream, or hill,
for, lying there at ease, they can unwind,
with senses bathed in sounds and thoughts now still.

We cannot find another place like this:
a place where all the creatures harmonize,
a place in which the mind is filled with bliss,
a place that people would immortalize.

But then a voice arises from the past.
It says that nature’s “red in tooth and claw.”
The bliss that’s felt in nature cannot last.
Consuming others is a basic law.

The harmony is there, and then it’s gone.
Perhaps we see just what we focus on.

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Remember This

—from my childhood in Tulsa, Oklahoma

Our yard contained a group of trees—
the perfect place to skin my knees
when I was still a growing boy,
when I could climb and still enjoy
the out-of-doors in early May,
and I had put my books away.

An oak tree held a brownish box,
a birdhouse made with wooden blocks.
The open door was just the size
for smaller birds to claim the prize.
The empty house was there for free,
and soon a sprightly chickadee
had claimed the box as her own house,
and with her mate, her helpful spouse,
she wove a grassy nest up there.
They carried fibers through the air
until there was a nest inside,
where future fledglings could abide
until they’d grown enough to fly
into the endless azure sky.

I climbed a nearby tree before
the fledglings dared to leave the door.
The parent birds were bringing food
to fill their quickly-growing brood.
The partners sang a cheerful song
of gladness as they flew along.
So glad were they to be alive,
they didn’t worry, stress, or strive.
Though working hard, they still knew how
to live within the joy of now.
They didn’t think about the past
or wonder if their joy would last.

Contagious was their joy to be,
and what they felt soon came to me.
As I began to feel their bliss,
a thought arose: Remember this!

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Alan Steinle, originally from Oklahoma, is a writer, editor, and translator. You can find many of his Spanish translations here.