~

I can hear the birds singing,
but I can’t see them
Calling for the sun to rise
from dark branches scraping the sky
Full of life they sound
perched high above the speckled lawn
Clinging to sticks, crooked and bare,
formed of countless years trying
and mistletoe nightmares

Melodies bridge the breeze,
lonely corn fields of narrow rows
and a garden of sleeping blooms...
life waiting to be reborn
to paint the landscape with color
Bringing happiness to the birds
singing anyway on the cusp of new,
the edge of beauty near
as northern horizons wake

Grey skies still cling the heavens
I listen, quietly to this music
as if their harmonies will lift
the loneliness from my heart
Chambered worries of what will come,
pulsating rivers in free flowing vistas
counting minutes until spring arrives
and I whisper a sad good bye
but I will return…I will return