CRITICA

I.
After twenty-five
slow
deep
breaths
a window before me
becomes a screen
of a scene of a silent cinema

II.
a tree in spring
a craggily oak tree
a pregnant branch
pulls my eyes left
lured
by an orange breast
of the first robin
hidden among twigs
it dances 
a shuffling soft shoe
ta da ta da ta da ta da
beak up, beak down
quickly left, quickly right
beak up, beak down
then, darts offstage
poof.

III.
Is it squirrel fight
over territory
A lover’s quarrel
A scamp to a love nest
These virtuosos tear in unison
mouth to tail
branches up, branches down
along the cable line
leaping to branches, branches
running a musical scale, then
these two Nijinsky’s
disappear too
poof.