Network

My neighbor said birds like birdbaths
As much as seeds,
So in the midst of summer rays
The blaze recedes

From dim shadow under our tree,
Where water waits,
Fresh and cool, calling parched birds.
Mute words translate

Through airy avian network—
Cardinal, jay,
Mockingbird, robin, and thrasher—
All whir their way.

(Here’s a cool poetry form: the Dechnad Cummaisc–please don’t ask me to pronounce this!. It’s an Irish style made up of quatrains. In each quatrain, the first and third lines have eight syllables. The second and fourth have four syllables and an end rhyme. The final word of line three rhymes with the middle of line four.)