essay
My awareness of birds changed, working with my window open. April was a sad month, but the birds didn’t know that. They sang gayly all day. The house sparrows in my neighbor’s hedgerow, the cardinal that bounced along the top of our backyard fence from time to time, hummingbirds at work on our gardenia, crows on power lines. All the birds festive every day, even as the number of sick and dead increased, even as hospitals reached capacity, even as the streets grew quiet then silent.
About the Author
Michael Kleber-Diggs (KLEE-burr digs) is a poet, essayist, and literary critic. He was born and raised in Kansas and now makes his home in Saint Paul, Minnesota. His debut poetry collection, “Worldly Things,” won the Max Ritvo Poetry prize and was published by Milkweed Editions. Michael teaches creative writing through the Minnesota Prison Writing Workshop and at colleges and high schools in Minnesota. When he isn’t writing, he is usually hitting a golf ball out of bounds, riding his bicycle, or walking Ziggy and Jasper, the family’s precocious goldendoodles. Michael is married to Karen Kleber-Diggs, a tropical horticulturist and orchid specialist. Karen and Michael have a daughter who is pursuing a BFA in Dance Performance at SUNY Purchase.