PoetryMagazine.com

Judy Bebelaar
Page 2

Saphho

for all the violet tiaras,

all the woodlots blooming in spring

for all the finches singing their hearts out

all the cats yowling in heat

and the swans who have lost their mates

for all the hawks spiraling down

in the clutches of love and destiny

for all the threads undone

the latches unfastened

the hinges rusted and broken

the rings cast into the sea

for all the letters gone unanswered

by lovers who have left

for all those shackled by love

and those lonely in their beds

the only balm:

the balm of sadness in song

Some Birds

All of us try to keep up,

though mostly we creep.

We are locked in

to our pasts.

We are books

written by authors

whose names we have forgotten,

living as in a dream

until something pushes us

over the edge

and we wake up,

feel  the heaviness of autumn,

the chill at the sky’s corners.

Already, we notice.

So soon this year, we think,

the leaves turning,

the squirrels beginning to nibble

at the green persimmons,

and finding them bitter,

throw them down.

Still, some birds sing.

The finches have fledged,

moved on,

so tiny and trim,

so focused on being alive.

All poems have been  selected from Walking Across the Pacific by

Andrena Zawinski and are printed with the permission of the author