| Birdie with a yellow frill
Hops up upon my window sill.
Bird this is of different kind.
Quick as light throw up the blind!
Loose the latch, fling wide the sashes,
Cubboardward the madman dashes
Hurling contents every way:
The salt! 'Twas here this very day. |
(The savor which doth savor all's
The device whereby the bird enthrall.
But salt her tail and have my way;
And this is law, the wise ones say.)
And here's the stuff! Now I'll refine
A plot to make yon birdie mine.
Disarmingly I'll chat and smile,
Approaching closer all the while,
'Til at the last one pinch to hurl!
And thus possess the airy girl. | |
| But...what's this gaze? So lacking guile
And deep as starlight...all the while
I schemed my schemes...I am undone!
The bird was only enjoying the fun
Of my mad scampers to make a trick.
The bird is having none of it.
No grimace mars that perfect face,
No lifted brow nor smirk disgrace
The faerie beauty--which doth say,
"Mortal, there is another way." |
One has these moments. As winter yields to spring, as dark
gives way to light, so understanding sometimes comes. |
Plots perish in a burn of shame.
But dark remorse is not her name.
No word's been spoke by she or I
But much was said. And while plots lie
In sorry ruin...how to tell
the name of this I taste? As well
To name the depth of sky; but men,
I think, might call it "wisdom." And then
With eyes all new return that gaze. | |
| This cloak of sham so many ways
And methods worn's cast off today.
For yes, there is another way.
It's open now. And with a step
Both tremulous and bold, begetting
Courage out of nameless fear,
Wondering I can see so clear...
Yet wondering also not at all.
For whence seek I to bewitch, enthrall,
Enchant, or work a thousand crafts?
No, leave those in that smoldering past
Of murky pain. For these are new: |
The day, and I, and she who knew
To find my sill this fated hour
In preference to some finer bower.
And now each gaze to each returns
Truth for a truth. No shame that burns
For dark's consumed and naught's to hide.
Inviting, then, this bird to bide
Without the agony of deceit:
"Hi, come on in."
She smiles and takes a seat. | |
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