"Genesis, Quetzal."
Swallow at dawn one tiny avocado.
Hold so still the world begins.
Love cry of the jaguar dyes crimson your deepest belly
down.
Each glance, a hummingbird, preening, the narrow trail
of her open bill.
Copper green winged, amethyst geode throat.
Blink once, and stars take flight.
Sing like trogons, mot mots, yellow-thighed finches,
sooty robins, nightingale thrushes,
acorn carpinteros tucked into carved
out holes, wrens and siskins, seen and hidden.
Cataratas, waterfalls of song.
Your chest, vest of drip tints.
Highland forest awake after rain.
Breeze ruffled streams.
Your tails run into the Pacific, waves
hungry to mingle with reef and sand.
Velvet green crest, teal of tide pool.
When you push off, flower piercers and fly catchers
fall from your feathers.
When you push off, Earth gasps and sighs.
Your wings stir root aromas, tangled underfoot.
When you push off, Earth and sky reshape around you.
When you push off, a new world spins.