A streak of flame orange and black

blurs the corner of my eye,

then turns, slows and settles

in a pine tree nearby.

It was seen before in another time,

by colonists we've heard,

who saw the colors of their lords

and called it Baltimore bird.

Baltimore Oriole, master builder

of pendant nests in treetops tall,

faithful fire bird migrant, even

Henry Thoreau awaited its call.

Oriole, high over the trees

from far Mexico and beyond,

to here, here in a pine tree

by a greening saltmarsh pond.