YOU CAN HEAR THE BIRDS’ BREATH IN THEIR SONG BY ROCHELLE JEWEL SHAPIRO

I think this as my breath clouds the winter air
and starlings give an oratorio as if it is spring,

and I am duck-walking in my icy driveway,
the country-boy walk my friend, Norman,

taught me in his last year of life,
so I would be close to the ground if I took a spill.

We walked, knees bent, butts stuck out, laughing
in the icy parking lot.

Norman,
I miss you.

Rochelle Jewel Shapiro published essays in the New York Times (Lives), Newsweek, many anthologies and magazines. Her short stories and poetry appeared in Moment, MacGuffin, Entropy, Permafrost, and more. Her poetry collection, Death, Please Wait was published by Box Turtle Press. She teaches writing at UCLA Extension. http://rochellejshapiro.com @rjshapiro