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.
Yes,
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.
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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
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Winter into Spring: A Duet
I am the birds,
their chatter,
notes
from winter’s blues.
Let me sing
the song
that’s not quite Spring,
my words merging
and calling the change,
rising,
falling,
awaiting,
silent,
melting,
alive,
an uncompromising duet,
a song school.