- Michael Conway, "Athene"
The Answer
White-breasted, no biggerThan the palm of my hand,
A bird I've not seen before
Flicks the new snow aside
With little flips of her head
And delicate dips of her beak
To find the seeds I had tossed
Before the wind-blown snow
Sifted down from pine boughs
And covered them wings-deep.
And now the rising notes
Of a song I've never heard;
Perhaps it is in gratitude,
Or perhaps she is the first
Or the last of her kind here,
A lament of her loneliness
Deeper than any snowfall,
A hunger no seed can fill.
Knowing something of my own
I prefer to believe that her notes
And her opening wings embrace
The pure joy of simply being alive,
The music of her astonishing heart.
And all this morning I try to make
A new song of my own to answer her.
Poetry by countryfog
Read 709 times
Written on 2010-12-27 at 14:01
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