A Spring poem
Scattered pieces of time fall around me
Like feathers molting off a duck.
Will others grow and replace the decaying time?
What have they seen in flight or fantasy?
A world splashed and preened within.
They attach and are reborn.
Time measured in a corpus of warmth
Around the beating heart within.
Some collected by another flying thing
And formed back into a nest for birth.
Heat makes the timbre of their play.
As perched high they jump into the day.
And fly away to find the wetness in the bay.
To fish. To paddle.
To view the world from upside down.
Tails directed to the orb above.
Springtime comes to life in a splash.
It scores rolling waves in a vee of reflected blue.
As new birth cuts a path across its face.
And powerful wings haul skyward into the warming day.
Rebirth quacks into the brightening light.
Headed back from where it came.
A nest. Another hungry mouth to feed.
And feathers anew to preen in place.
Denis Hearn 2017