There is a bell in the tower by the lake of the swans
and a blind priest with his stick on the path.
What hymn can matter to these bickering birds?
What pew can comfort the bewildered dead?
The swans trick the dead to come into the lake
and fool the bell to fall from the rope.
The priest is found on the bench in the dawn
his mouth filled with feathers as if they belonged.
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The Adagio is perfect accompaniment for the tenor of your poem. I sit here listening / reading, not wanting to let go.
ReplyDeleteWow. How do you DO this? The mouth full of feathers - so good.
ReplyDeleteNot all birds are good birds, like not all witches are, but in your writing they all hold and wield magic. This brief allegory is perfect in its mirroring of each image and its unavoidable end, with the crispness of a fall night as All Hallows looks around the next corner. How easily things can be tricked, manipulated, and altered by the seemingly clumsy beak of a swan, and how change and endings follow us like feathers on a capricious wind. Stellar poem, Shay.
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