My Mortal Wings

My love, a thing of fierce and wailing; not
a thing in bloom nor spun from any string
that laughs upon an April loom, nor wrought
by Summer's welding, brought on cheery wing.

It isn't, no; It's Autumn's aching red,
its waking stretch of crestless crimson, deep
October's sky of twilight's bleeding thread,
its failing tree in all its color's steeped.
My wailing love, my mortal wings to wield,
at once alive and fiercely dying, burning,
braying far afoot and yielding, kneeling,
bent on reckless rage yet spent on yearning.
Spent and bending, galloping afire
regarding only depths of great desire.

Boundless depths of thick maroon, desire
awakens flailing flames, becoming quick
a thing that's far too fierce for taming, spires
vast beyond sustain and swelling thickly.
Burdened, filled but famished, buckling bent
and doubled over, wilting swift beneath
its welling, still unwilling to relent
despite its flawed foundation underneath.

It feeds my wailing, overflowing each
my branches lifting, every inch of sky
and every stretch of Autumn's crimson reach;
too bold to last, too thick to swiftly die.
My scarlet love, my boundless deep desire,
each intertwined, they're dying all afire.

Give Me Leave

Snow white bark and wind-whipped boughs,
dancing locks across her brow.
There upon her grass grown perch,
stands my long and beautied birch.

Beneath her deep and deepened gaze
I spend my sad and gladdened days.
Glad to climb her branches all,
sad to cast the slightest pall;

Just to tarnish slight her bark,
shade its white to nightly dark.
Just to one her slim branch bend
would to my knees in sorrow send.

So I'll leave your blossomed perch,
if you'll be gladdened, beautiful birch.
Give me leave this very hour,
I'll swift depart your shaded bower.

Or if you ask of me today,
despite my flaws to truly stay,
I'd spend my days within your boughs,
my kiss, my tears, upon your brow.

Blackbird, Blackbird

Spring has come
and left
a deepened shade of green
on all things steeped in dawn
and skyward reaching-
Summer waits behind the morning's crest,
awake and out of sight
beyond its blue and flowered brow.

A sudden laugh of light
ignites the hilltop's haze
an instant,
then rising slightly
echoes streams of joyous notes
and sweet delight
above the hill descending west.

And with the dawn's ascending,
so ascends a once familiar shade-
a shadow,
wings at fullest reach and raking
Springtime's gentle breeze
and breathless sky.

My Blackbird!
Slow and sure your shadow
traces blossomed boughs
of windy leaves and scented pine.
You cast your passing shade, and pleasant,
briefly lasting
slight upon the breathing hills
and spangled streams
alive and leaping.

I upward trace your shadow's path
and placed against the cobalt,
clear
I see your wings are set;
two silhouettes like sails
against a Sapphire sky.

I watch
for ages,
all eternity;
My Blackbird rise and fall,
your shadow's sudden swell and waning.
Your feathered sails together raised
and just as quick their swift retreating-
every movement
cast against the depths of sky.

And just as Summer
sets its stride upon the east,
so my Blackbird downward bounds
to rest its charcoaled crown
upon my welcome bough.