Pianola scroll, rolling
There’s a bird outside my window
who is singing ceaselessly
his notes in repetitions
daily delicious, dawn till dusk
this snatch of song, inherited
imprinted in his DNA
his egg, fledging
encoded like a pianola scroll,
rolling out
just this tune his given
no riffing, cutting loose
free-stying not his lot.
As the sun comes up each morning
and the moon goes from sliver to full
he opens his throat and exuberance
extravagant, sweetens the springtime air.
June 3rd 2020 Hounoux
There’s a bird outside my window
who is singing ceaselessly
his notes in repetitions
daily delicious, dawn till dusk
this snatch of song, inherited
imprinted in his DNA
his egg, fledging
encoded like a pianola scroll,
rolling out
just this tune his given
no riffing, cutting loose
free-stying not his lot.
As the sun comes up each morning
and the moon goes from sliver to full
he opens his throat and exuberance
extravagant, sweetens the springtime air.
June 3rd 2020 Hounoux
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