A bluejay warns the grounded beings, shares
perspectives for those who heed suchlike: fierce
courageous singers in a key we can
not hear with ears. Cicadas thrum tympan
in waves of longing after thirteen years
inevitable to emerge ringing
of love and loudly proclaim fears faced proudly
in that cold dark sleep. In the deep
songs of living–and now sirens blare–include
what emerges. Claim this sunbeam, this beach
the lightly rocking swing. Sometimes I feel
the rhyme or meter sways and rocks the boat
A lone goose bleats. I tilt and set the swing
sideways. That kind of day. Alert. Awake.
The coffee tastes divine. Each being gives
and I receive, celebrate what I find.