While Blowing on the Shakuhachi, I Think of Birds
Yesterday’s sorrow
dissipates in joy.
Though you are not here, I hear your voice,
blow a solitary note in response.
Your philosopher bird carries it to you,
two-thousand miles away,
as the wren brings your song to me.
This is love today
and tomorrow,
embodied in birdsong and faith.
Next week I will know your touch
as you will mine.
We’ll follow our lists,
starting with lips, while the universe
surges around us, filling the voids we never saw.
Needs, answered.
Perhaps the world will end.
Perhaps the red-tailed hawk will follow its nature.
Perhaps I will stand on the roof and shout your name.
But today, this little bird nesting in all the unsaid spaces,
is all I have, little mouth flickering, forming moons and
new mornings, new shadows, new light.
* * *
“While Blowing on the Shakuhachi I Think of Birds” first appeared in Voices de la Luna in March 2020.
O at the Edges 
What can I say about this ? It is breathtaking!
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Thanks very much, Holly. It was, and is, a heartfelt poem. And now we’re separated by mere feet, not miles.
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The note’s response instantaneous.
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And still echoing!
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It’s wonderful when things turn out so beautifully.
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Unlikely, and yet it happens! 🙂
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So true.
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Ah what a beautiful piece! There’s someone 3,000 miles away from where I am…
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Ah, then you know the feeling all too well.
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