drawn to the porch at dusk
we sit without speaking
until the orchestra begins
wasn’t it a vireo we would hear
by the old barn at sunset?
I miss that sound
blue jays’ insistent morning squawks.
woke my childhood home
one by one
doves
gold and purple finches
their vibrant tiny bodies
feed, attract, give notice
all day long
finally, at evening
the soft trill
of shy robins
they, too, sing in daylight
but no one hears them,
drowned out by the din of life
waiting for their chance to say
goodnight again, I love you
No comments:
Post a Comment