Far from the shaded trunk,
the birds sit tip-top
on the edge of the bone bare trees
to witness all
-
Basking in the golden glow of mid-winter,
to see the world above, the world below
-
My darling, my love, I've melted between
the distance it takes our mouths
to shape words
that sound true
-
We get lost, dragged out,
coated,
in the lemons of love
-
I've caught the waves, see the line
try to hold it, until you melt back across,
to me
-
Those birds are free, have no thought of summer,
resplendent in ritual,
and morning mystery
-
Today isn't even that special
actually no different from a thousand others
I just feel it as a dare
-
Dare me. To the ledge. To the roof, to the edge.
Dare me.
To where the words above,
are the words below
-
I loved reading this--and I agree with the comment below--it's rare to find poems of beauty and force online, and this is one of them. 💜
nice poem and good point, nature designed certain bird species to winter over and when you consider what that involves, their survival is nothing short of amazing