piet-my-vrou

first call of spring

did i expect perfection
that first evening of spring
when the red chested cuckoo
called me outside
to see the evening star
in a salmon sky – clear and still
horizon to hilled horizon
where all but he
held its breath
while his song
fell from the trees.

 

second call of spring

and the morning will come
when you find yourself
new out of bed
on your hands and knees
on the forest floor
thorns snagging skin and hem
following otter strewn duck feathers
along the deer path
whispering thank you
i love you and
i’m sorry to all of it
while the cuckoo sings the sky.

 

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