another notebook poem

img_0483(Summer dawn, Brant Point)

Oh the songs —
Cut sharp from tiny lungs,
straining throats,
batted featherlight
to chase the blackvault
night, shimmersongs
in stillness — breathless
gembeats speckling silence
and teasing up the sun
The last of you,
The highest — yes,
but too timid
to come unbidden —
peeks now, peeks —
So take flight
oh you fragile bold wings —
Catch these rays
Tug them, entwine them
in flickering wings,
a night already alight.

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