Nightbird

It calls with a clear

two-fingered whistle;

how a neighbor summons children

home for summer supper. 

Unabashed wooing.  

A lark?  Or Cherokee mother

clothed in twilight sadness,

blade of grass pressed in her lips.

Run.  Feel night-cooled meadow

under sunburned feet.

Find the moth-specked porch lamp,

the scent of belonging.

Without the chatter of song birds,

it seems human in the dark.  Urgent.

Should I leave by back door or front?
Persistent pipe.  O! Come.

tk/June 2015

Beautiful read by R.A.D. ...

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*A Midsummer Night's Melancholy by Michael Sowa

The Walk

Beautiful recitation by R.A.D. Stainforth ... he smiles here ...

Day ramps down
in economy of light.

Swifts lilt above,
twitter last rites.

We walk, until it's too late
for them to fly. 

Dress, soft on your thighs,
flip-flops whisper
the rush of your voice,
echo your indelible press.

It's so dark,
I can't tell sound from touch,
or see your eyes.

tk/ May 2012

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