Vox Populi
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Robert Cording: Power Lines
I like to drive along Route 41, toward Miami,
The constant construction dwindling in the rearview,
To see the kingfishers spaced every mile or so
On the power lines as if they’d reached
An agreement as to what would work best for all.
One of the few birds here whose population is stable,
They bear witness to the little that hasn’t changed.
Erect, patient, all eye without an I, they perch
On the electric lines running alongside
A fought-over network of canals that drain
The overflow from Lake Okeechobee for farmland.
Their shaggy crowns and bright blue
And white plumage jolt the dull background
Of road-dusty greens. Sometimes I pull over
To watch their unhesitating headfirst dive
That almost always spears a minnow,
Which they eat politely before resuming
Their regal posture on the wire—as if the cars
Speeding under them are of no concern.
~~~~
Robert Cording is professor emeritus at College of the Holy Cross where he taught for 38 years and served as the Barrett Chair of English and Creative Writing. After his retirement, he worked for five years as a poetry mentor in the Seattle Pacific University low residency MFA program. His many books include Heavy Grace (Alice James, 2022) and In the Unwalled City (Slant, 2022).
Copyright 2025 Robert Cording
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“They bear witness to the little that hasn’t changed.” Loved the poem. Here in Lima we have the gallinazos (buzzards) doing the same. This is a poems for me to think of when driving below them – and not too close to the power line on which they sit! 🙂
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This poem is an affirmation. “Kingfisher” is one of the many words removed from the Oxford Junior Dictionary.
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What a terrible thing… removing the language of nature from kids’ vocabulary.
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I bought my grandson the lovely book The Lost Words which include kingfisher, acorn, fern, newt, and wren, among others. If we lose the names of living things in the natural world, we are likely to lose the desire to protect them. It is grievous.
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Oh, I love that book, Lisa. I’m looking at it now facing outward on my bookshelf. Birds!!!!
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for some reason it would not let me comment earlier. Love this I have only seen these birds a few times although my app claims to have heard them in our park.
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Thank you all for your gracious comments which I am just seeing–having just returned from Florida to CT. So, Sean I still live in CT, but have been spending 4 months in southwestern Florida the last few years.
Bob
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I was just in Fort Myers for a short week, where my in-laws live. It still has a variety of birds, but over the past several decades, hurricanes and other weather, plus out of control development, has noticeably diminished coastal wildlife. But not the gridlocks on the roads. Or rhe proliferation of strip malls.
Love your work. Sean’s too. Jim N
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You are certainly right about the development, the cars, the regular bulldozing of Florida scrub for new gated communities. We live in Naples, in the corner nearest Marco Island. We inherited my parents’ doublewide when they died. It’s a short drive down 41 to some Everglades parks where the birding is terrific. We also have kayaks and are very close to Rookery Bay, an expansive reserve. Thanks for writing, Jim. I truly appreciate it,
Bob
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Robert: You must come and visit! Are you in Naples? Ft Meyers? Marco?
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This poem is yet another reminder of why I’ve long admired Bob Cordning’s work. Love these couplets that mimic both the power lines and the road below, always with an eye & ear for the song that perches there.
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‘… always with an eye & ear for the song…’ A great description of every poet’s work…
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Discovering Bob Cording’s poems via Vox Populi, along with reading his book of essays, has brought both his spiritual insights into poetry, and glimpses at nature’s wonders. (and much more).
That glorious bird, the kingfisher, seen often in rural Minnesota while perched on a snag at the edge of a pond, can offer a metaphor for survival, in a world where ponds are being replaced by tears.
The poem’s final line sums up a great conundrum we and kingfishers face.
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Well-said, Jim. Thank you.
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What a pleasure to read your treatment of this lovely Floridian creature, so well placed by your words, “Harked to your craft, worked with fine intent , til your fingers moved somnambulant…gleaning the unsaid off the palpable.
Robert, you are one of our finest. Are you now as seems in this poem, in Florida?
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Inspired by this poem, I reviewed the little anthology always so thoughtfully presented by Vox Populi when featuring poets and their poems, and was stricken with the tactile and psychic complexity of Robert’s offerings so as to draw allusion to the “Harvest Bow,” and perhaps lending some confusion to my appreciation. Sometimes I get excited…
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Thanks, Sean! I appreciate your enthusiastic praise of the VP poets and poems.
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Out of the park, as ever, Bob! Bravo!Sent from my iPhone
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Thanks, Syd. I agree!
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Sometimes I just feel like repeating a few lines to enrich the day — today it’ll be:
“To watch their unhesitating headfirst dive
That almost always spears a minnow,
Which they eat politely before resuming
Their regal posture on the wire”
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Notice how the modifiers create the tone: unhesitatingly, politely, regal….
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Loved theses lines, also.
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…all eye without an I… How restful and possible. Thank you Michael
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I love Bob’s poems. The music is subtle and the argument humane.
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