Birdsong for Susan

Rooks & sparrows, robins' breasts,
may blue-tits shrill for thee their best.

    Will the lonely curlew call
    at break of night? And will the thrush
    parade his finery? They will.

Your mind is fading into simple things. Rooks
& sparrows.  By the road mid mountains
you cried when crows laid bare your soul. We heard the honk of geese,
wings creaking eastward, flying east.

    And will the swans' white plumage drift
    where ducks abound?  And will the ducks
    be amorous? They will.

Or hollow-sounding peacocks, large-winged gulls
adrift for aye on thermals over cliffs?  They will.

They will; with beating bodies warm, and light their bones
behind bright eyes thoughts of seeds and worms and insects.

When the owl out hunting late at night
    ows at the moon, disturbs
    the scampering mouse 
When the ragged pigeon
    scratches day-wards at your sill
or school-boy starlings peck peck by your feet come even

    will these creatures ever sing your rest:
    rooks and sparrows, robins' breasts
    will blue-tits shrill for thee their best?

They will, they will!  Hush now.
May their small bright minds attend you
let
     these your friends tune you back to wholeness;
     sleep you in peace
who gave bread and nuts to the needy in their time of need.

© 2026 Jurek Kirakowski