Song School

On our porch swing
Drinking coffee
Listening to chickadee chatter.
It begins.
The transformation of frost
Via dawn light.
The slant of it
The micro-nuance of it
as it cracks & melts &
slides down the roof.
it chatters too,
“I am the Spring’s harbinger.”
Then silence…melted & alive in the gutters
& then to the rain barrel,
a very different
species of noise and signal.
The chickadees chickadeedeedee,
The drips ripple
down and out.
An uncompromising duet,
A song school.

2 Replies to “Song School”

  1. I am but student
    of the birds,
    the chatter all
    that matters in
    this book I took
    and tore away
    the pages of
    yesterday’s blues.
    Let me sing
    the duet, a song
    not quite yet of Spring,
    in hopes my words
    might be the calling
    of a change,
    with sadness falling.

    — riffing, you know, as we do – Kevin

  2. Winter into Spring: A Duet

    I am the birds,
    their chatter,
    from winter’s blues.
    Let me sing
    the song
    that’s not quite Spring,
    my words merging
    and calling the change,
    an uncompromising duet,
    a song school.

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