Bird-
of clay are you but not yourrepertoire of song-notes, fountaining
out of form, immune to corrosive
years. Here you pipe
greet dawn, there you chirp bid farewell
to dusk , your mere warble
in spring, harbingers world's renewal,
and departure of winter
as you
fashion new description of time-
such greatness stirs
in your small frame. You sing
in your mother tongue, unknown
even to linguist if you
do the same song twice or is it that
no two ones do the same one as
each other !Wonderful to see
the way you
bullseye in your mud-hut
under the eaves! Bird of dual nationality,
owning nothing ,
you can fly to winter
in warm-land and return back
for summer . This place
is home and also far off from home, in
bird-throated land.
Poetry by yoonoos peerbocus
Read 33 times
Written on 2024-09-16 at 02:12
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