I do so love
an excess of ease
as if slung between trees
with a glad, greedy glass of iced sun tea
so ready to hand, in the other
and in-between sips, a wand,
waving lazily, some weaving maestro's
baton - and in response,
as if all at once, going on
all along,
bursting back and forth, a symphony:
birdsong
2 comments:
I love seeing phrases I recognise.
I also love the feeling this conjures.
I confess to a tremor of apprehension whenever your perfectly-beloved-otherwise cat, trailing smoke, slinks in under a poem full of birds, of mine.
Apprehension isn't always negative, though! I hasten to point. Just pop a "delicious" in front of it! "Delicious apprehension!" Who'd have the gall to dump on THAT? Or go high - trump everybody's hand, play the Bard card, puff yourself up and assume the apprehension of angels - which is your birthright, anyhow. High time you got around to such soaring and hovering assumptions, revealed in all your glory so seemingly unsustainable in the air, and just - you know. Chillin'. "Up there," not in the least apprehensive about the rakish angle of your rakish angel's halo, at least to the naked and untrained eye.
The better to visit one's self with birds, perhaps...
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