I saw a bird I’d never seen before.
I looked her up: a Carolina wren,
Perched in the rhododendron by my door.
My bird book said her range does not extend
As far north as this little bird had flown.
Perhaps she’d ridden northward on a wind
That with preternatural force had blown
Her past her native country’s utmost end.
I thought how wonderful this rarity
Had somehow found her way to cold New York;
But second thought warned that calamity
Of climate drove her here, that the cruel torque
With which we’ve wrung the air around the earth
Had flung her as a fledgling from her berth.
Featured image: Carolina Wren by Manjith Kainickara, CC BY-SA 2.0.
Christopher Goff was born and raised in the Appalachian Mountains, in Glade Spring, Virginia. He attended the University of Virginia, where he majored in English literature, and Harvard Law School. He is currently Senior Vice President and General Counsel of HarperCollins Publishers in New York. He began writing sonnets two years ago. This is his first published poem. Contact.