Birds Fly

It’s time to whisper, as the birds have come
to folly us with song at morning’s breath
and tease our dream-scapes with relentless sun.

Wake up! They cry, the time for dreams is done!
Wake up your sleepy head, it’s well past death-
time, now whispering, and the birds have come

To bring us joy, to bring incessant fun
against our will, against our early breath,
to tease our dream-scapes off with endless sun.

Such sunny days are few, and only one
or two are worth this elegant throat-catch;
It’s time to whisper, as the birds have come.

Let’s turn our voices to forever-done,
tune in to birdsong, tune out all this mess,
embrace our dream-scapes and relentless sun

In exquisite display, my mourning one.
For you and me, forever-ness, unless
in time for whispers, sweet, sweet birds have come
to tease dream-scapes away with endless sun.

Poem Number Five for Poetry Month, sharing a VILLANELLE for Tuesday in the Imaginary Garden. If you can even believe it! My first ever, and probably my last.

Don’t hate the villain. Hate the villanelle!