Poem

Birdsong


Today after several seasons
of not insisting on anything of you

by allowing your silence
by allowing you sanctuary

by not glancing at the clock over you
by not acknowledging, even,

that we were in the same grove -
you at last, from behind and above me,

sang. It was for me, to me.
I know this because you said my name.

And I will remember that music
for the trust with which it was shared.


October 1, 2015