Little bird, how can it be
you fit so comfortably in the branches
of this old tree?
I've waited here so long
for someone to come & offer me
such a familiar song.
Winter puffs and blows,
its icy bite threatens to sting;
but with you here in this tree
I'm blessed by a permanent state of Spring!!
Hear my leaves hiss in the breeze,
& your birdsong speaking my secret,
sacred language of trees.
Your song, your plumage
is like no other I've ever heard or seen.
While you're near these leaves,
I'll always try to shelter you,
evergreen.
No other feathered creatures'
fine advances
have felt like your feet upon these branches.
And it's true, I cannot offer
the freedom of von blue skies,
but I think we're of a kindred nature:
You and I.
Always know, when you're
needing to hide from the storm:
these leaves & branches of mine
will (try) to keep you warm.
I wake this morning
to find an empty roost, a couple of feathers,
you've flown again too soon /
But later this evening
I delight to find you've left (just for me),
tangled here in my branches...
...a full & yellow moon.
(c) Brent Harpur, 2015.
“We should meet in another life, we should meet in air, me and you.” (Sylvia Plath)
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