Sunday, August 21, 2011

The Birds are always near.

Yesterday, 3 myna on the sand dunes -
oddly a pair but one you say.
Though things are odd when birds are near,
like the male pheasant
and the white-faced heron
coming when the spirits leave.
You may not have seen today
the kingfisher, perhaps though it was 3 or more,
so difficult to tell they are one from another,
though I think of it as only one.
Come for the summer of our love,
when touched we are
by the difficulties of life,
the sweetness of being with you
when lost I am wandering
the generations gone
and knowing that the birds are always near.
Generations, events together,
in a chain removed from that which
I don't understand but for 3 mynas
come visit the freshly cut grass.
So they watch upon us busy there
for me to give to you
all of myself but for parts not synchronized
in flight apart from watching the birds
that are always near.

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