From the Branches, a Word.

 

Song of the Wire

An overcast day

In the summer.

A pleasant relief

From the heat.

And rising quite 

Early this morning

I’ve taken a

Cool backyard seat.

The birds are

Surprisingly quiet.

Are they as slow-

Moving as I?

The leaves on the

Maple turn over,

Requesting a drink

From the sky.

And upwards behind

Me, I hear him,

In notes softly

Soothing and sad.

His double-tone tune

Of lamenting,

Today makes me

Mellow, but glad.

I wonder what hurt

He is hiding?

What loneliness

Looms in his soul?

What sickness at home

He is bearing?

What trial he finds

Hard to control?

His heart is the

Heart of a mourner.

And pain is a

Constant we share.

He asks, “May I

Help you by singing?

I know, and God knows,

And we care.”