Saturday, July 14, 2018

Starling My Darling

As dusk settled around our suburban nest

after dinner we’d leave the mess of our desks

to walk with our children to the park or next door

and visit with neighbors, talk some more

about research and relatives and what’s local news

—the usual banter that kept us amused.

The sidewalks had cracks with heaved up cement

from rootlets of trees by sublets for rent.

Our neighbors were playwrights, professors, nurses and maids

elders, young students, rabbis cheerful and staid

some worked at home, others played.

Yet at dusk our jobs for a moment left us

as fireflies twinkled joy invictus.

The children would a-giggle leave bikes on the ground

run to catch the magical bugs they found.

Shadows lengthened their laughter, unbound our day

from restless worries and dismay.

As the heavens settled in crepuscular peace

friendly shades danced dark from every leaf

of a tree filled with a constellation of birds

who burst into song. We would smile when we heard

The Singing Tree give voice with none deferred.

Our youngest asked if they were quarreling.

That’s just how starlings say I love you, my darling.

photo from public domain



Words must land
upon parchment
to feel real

without that skin touch ping
melodic hieroglyphics

I float in ether
know not who I am

photo from public domain