Song for the Song of the Cedar Waxwings

by Don McKay

Tinnitus? Or have you been
beset by angels whinging
in your belfry sreep sreep
sreep through the upper reaches of your ear
as though the air up there were itchy
and scratching itself. One glimpse
of their busyness among the branches
and it all comes back:
a table is being set outdoors
by a flock of aunts and in–laws, everyone
is coming and nothing,
nothing is being delicately parsed.