A Poem I Love

Birds on Statues by Cole Swensen

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I love this poem because it’s a poem of noticing. I picture the speaker cutting through the park on the way to work in the morning, hovering for a moment to consider which way is west and which way is east. Unlike the statues that, in a satisfying inverse, hurry but go nowhere, this scene is a part of the recurring movements and rhythms of the speaker’s life. She is going somewhere.

She knows this side of the pond as well as that side, perhaps varies her route around it depending on the time of day. She knows that on certain days the pigeons are on the foot or the hand, but most often on the head of each statue. As is often the case with familiar scenes, she has known this, registered it, perhaps smiled to herself about the mocking pigeons flapping from perch to frozen perch, probably without really giving it much thought.

Then one day, they drained the pond, which sets things off balance and brings her quiet familiarity to the forefront. The pigeons go with the water, and are replaced by crows. I love the phrase, “the odd result.” How full of odd results the world is. Though the speaker does not mourn the pigeons (probably knowing that when the pond is filled again they will return), the determination, assertiveness, alterity, of the crows is perhaps a little unwelcome.

There is nothing grand or dramatic about this poem. There’s not a profound message come along at sideways, no clever declaration on the nature of change (other than that it exists). The experience of reading it, is pleasantly like the experience of experiencing it. There is enough there to hold interest if you keep your eyes open.

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This poem, courtesy of Poetry Foundation, May 2024 edition of Poetry.

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