I Always Look Where I Should
It was dark, so I couldn’t see much –
But I heard a bird sing a song
Like none I had heard before.
He sang, as if calling
Like the rushing wind
Ripe with a summery citric scent
Running carefree fingers through
My thoughts
Trembling in awe like blades of green green grass.
He sang like sunlight strands
Caught in the glint
Of squinting eyes – afraid that
They might not hide love well enough
From a friend they fear is a lover.
Eyes trying to say
‘It’s just a summer day, and we’re just friends.’
He sang like the taste of buzzing bees
Sweet as brimming hives heaving with honey.
As if calling... still he sang.
So I listened (but did not go)
As his song crept up
My skin (rising with anticipation)
And into my thoughts.
I heard joy dancing to his music –
Disguised as youthful half-smiles
And infantile cackle
And rapid-rushing hearts with something to beat for –
Thumping percussively
To the marooned melody of a nagging night-bird.
His breath stuttered and his music grew hoarse –
Still he sang, as if begging.
But it was dark
And I was not expecting to hear a song so sweet
At night.
If he sang by day
I would have gone looking.
Suddenly
His force failed
And his song seized –
I opened my eyes
And it was dark again.
In the morning, I tried to find him
But could not hear his song.
Perhaps it was drowned in the mechanical monotone
Of high technology
And busy people...
There were so many birds
How could I tell
Which song was his?
