Mockingbird III

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Mockingbird III

Songs, returned
to their space

within the sphere of
movement, the patterns inscribed
as if to touch the face of every

wind: here one moment, then
gone. This quickness delights us.
How, then, do we so often forget

those things we share? Night
comes and goes to anotherโ€™s
phrase, yet each note is so precisely

placed, so carefully rendered
that we hear only the voice, not its source.

Another piece from the 80s. This would likely be a much longer poem if I were to write it today.

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27 thoughts on “Mockingbird III

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