Monday, August 22, 2005
a blackbird singing - a poem
To my untutored traffic-tuned ear
silence swims in the trees and all sounds cease.
The ripe void wraps itself around me
and I stand listening, silent, as the stained air
unfolds, filling emptiness with a floating
melody. A blackbird’s melancholy
liquid notes pour falling like a luxury.
Its voice, a vibrant instrument of virtue,
spills simply into the soft summer evening,
offering its honesty as a gift.