The American Redstart

First published in The Journal of NJ Poets, Issue 63 (April 2026)

I take careful steps through the woods,

My head turned upward.

The slightest rustle in the leaves catches my eye.

Was it just a breeze or—?

There it is again!

Flitting back and forth!

I raise my binoculars for a closer focus on

A small, feathered body,

Charcoal with a dappled sunset on its wings.

It proudly displays its tailfeathers,

Orange splayed out into a fan.

And then, it’s gone again,

Off to another branch, another treetop.

I commit each detail to memory

And pull out the regional guidebook,

Flipping through pages until I find the identification.

My heart swells.

A new creature to me.

I am alone with this new epiphany,

A brief taste of man’s original dominion,

How Adam must have felt with each new discovery,

Bearing the responsibility to name each one.

And now I know a name too.

The American redstart.