And now the
Birds outside my
Windows have begun
To sing the
Tickling morning melodies
Awakening a sleepy
Saul who is
Stretching and yawning
Soft crimson east
Beyond the trees
Like the aroma
Of apple pie
Wafting through checker
Curtained kitchen windows
Or like your
Rough shadow as
It brushes against
My cheek kissing
Me good morning
And yet again
I am that
Bear the boy
Outgrew the bike
The girl forgot
The letter unopened
And the ornaments
Stowed in attic
I’m the deserted
Baseball field the
Empty beach the
Quiet carnival and
The vacant bigtop
I am alone
Once being something
Now quite another
Sometimes I feel
Like an autumn
Marsh a respite
For birds taking
Refuge in my
Arms as they
Fly onto another
Or a succulent
Blossom sitting pretty
And used for
It’s nectar by
Buzzing plump bumblebees
Oh when will
I be the
Roost or hive
That they return
To after they’re
Finished bobbing about
Your voice to
Me is like
The soft chirp
Of deep forest
Crickets your body
Is a tawny
Calm pool found
By mistake while
Wandering through thickets
Your eyes like
Far off galaxies
Upon which I
Wish and oh
Your smile like
The early morning
Sun which breaks
Free of linen
Next to me
I am but
One blossom in
A field of
Wildflowers one
Tree in a
Wood one snowflake
In a blizzard
And one raindrop
In a downpour
The difference is
That I’m the
Flower in your
Vase the shade
In which you
Sit the flake
Caught on tongue
And the drop
That landed softly
On your lips
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 