I heard a bird
Flap, in winter’s air.
He will fly,
I know not where.
While I
Shall go
In Winter’s snow.
Does he know
His journey’s end?
And what of thee
And me
My friend?
I heard a bird
Flap, in winter’s air.
He will fly,
I know not where.
While I
Shall go
In Winter’s snow.
Does he know
His journey’s end?
And what of thee
And me
My friend?
I heard
Leaves fall.
Then, a solitary bird
Did call,
As I stood
In Autumn’s wood.
And I did comprehend,
Beauty, and a friend.
I have just uploaded several videos to Youtube of me reading poems from my book ‘Light and Shade; serious (and not so serious) poetry. A lot of the poems were read next to the Wood near my home, and due to the wind, the sound quality is impaired.
In spring
I heard
Birds sing
With such ecstacy
In a tree,
As I did pass
Along the woodland path.
They sang not For me.
Yet it filled my heart,
And I almost forgot
My art
In their, unconscious poetry.
Outside my window the birds twitter.
No bitter
Singing from those who live, yet know it not.
Their lot
Is a happy one,
For they are here then gone
Without foreknowledge that the sky will darken.
I will harken
To another song.
The long
Summer nights have arrived.
Why do I strive
For delights
Of a different kind,
When I find
In the birds
A truth surpassing words?