MAR ( / Mayagüez, PR)

The Seasons, With Sparrows

I know the sparrow in the marrow
of your bones.
And in the spring, closely within
your pirouettes I follow
like the hollow echo of sea,
crazy as foam.

I know the bird I heard
while drifting on the sand.
Was it in summer, when seagulls hover
and the ocean summons the shore,
the heart hungers for more,
and love is mute as a hand?

I know the bird I heard
as I stumbled in a wood.
Was it in autumn, as leaves fall to the bottom,
your wings raised to the summit my soul
and, from a golden bowl,
offered the beat of their blood?

I know the song, a gilded gong,
the sounds of Byzantium.
Come winter, when snow is kinder
than frost—the words unveiled:
warm, veritable, frail—
two birds will soar as one.

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Comments (2)

Wonderful rhyme, use of nature very nice. Patricia
A fine love poem, Martin. There is a classic feel to it, very Yeatsian. The subtlety of the rhyme scheme enhances the piece. Fine work. Hugh