this thought of you reading Eliot to me ....................................................................... #Glo/NaPoWriMo2019

photo by Shaun Wilkinson
via Shutterstock

A dawn chorus stirs us 
birds take to preen perching 
songs beaked, cutting into the wake of day 
they're flesh seed magnetic crumbs 
of darling starlight 
fallen to dust 
as we all must 
one day it seems 
though time erodes 
our sense of permanence 
our sense of willful obstruction 
to its endless march, its endless hunger of our bones 
and our intentions to outlast how far time goes 
time knows, it will indeed bleed from us 
the last ounce of our humanity 

and this, poem says 
is music 
to our ears 
birds are sundry shooting stars 
with their hollow reed fingered souls 
tolling the ley lines 
we find them harbinger and omen 
and we pray their passages 
to mark ourselves 
bowsprit knives 
with many lives  
purified by tides 
and this odd sense 
of knowing 
how, to dance 
here and now 
on this ride 

EJR ©