The idea
like a shy child
peeks from around a corner
hoping you will notice it.
If you’re too busy to pay attention
it fades away and you are left
trying to find the picture you can’t
quite bring to mind.
.
.
.
Twice this morning, while busy with something else, an idea fluttered up. Twice I thought, “Oh! That’s good. I must remember that!” and twice it disappeared into the ether. Darn. Darn.
Baby birds
peeping in the road
calling for dinner–all mouths
few feathers
Watch for cats!
We’re nestled here between the hills
protected from the harsh winds
warm and basking by the lake.
But you are bored,
you’re ready to escape,
to see what lies beyond the valley
and so we wave farewell
knowing after adventure,
home calls the blood.
The bouquet of irises
is dessicated;
brown paper shells devoid of scent,
death displayed in a vase.
The purple blooms,
dripped inky streaks down the walls
and puddles onto the floor.
The stains leave a memory of floral glory
for tomorrow.
I do not know what to do
about your screams.
It seems you plunge
to unplumbable depths
and I do not know
how to swim.
The mists of melancholy
shroud the waters,
coat you in agony,
fog reason, and
I fear I am not lighthouse
enough to guide you home.
and so she searches in silence,
on tips of toes wanders
wakeful through the dark
thoughts
troubled determination
dragging her toward the
treasure
she will never find.
![DSCN1592[1]](https://shawnbird.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/dscn15921-e1431482559656.jpg)
.
Water rushing,
whispering journey,
rippling over rocks
hurrying yearning
for shimmering
ocean.
.
(This water colour painting is half of a pair by Valerie Rogers)
Arms are
the consolation
the comfort
the consideration
arranged around artifice.
Arcing constancy.
Perhaps when
. you are dead
I will find a cache
. of hidden love letters,
. diaries,
. poetry
all proclaiming your passionate
. yearnings,
your adoration recorded
. day after day.
Moments captured on paper
. trapped filaments of bliss
. flashes of us through your eyes.
Perhaps
I will find a cache.
Perhaps
. not.
Shawn L. Bird 