A Rapture on Spring
Night rain
but morning wakes him
with a rush of bird sound.
The world
is made for love they cheep.
They croon
the world is made for me.
In the coniferous branches
outside his window a hummingbird
lights for a moment,
then off again
going to work
to feed its body
which burns up
calories so fast, so fast –
no time to lie in a nest in the comfort
of hummingbird thought.
Where is food?
Next where are the babes?
But the man in bed wonders
what is his own whistling all about?
Is it for himself? he imagines
that girl back in college somehow reading it
and sending him a smile – maybe a letter even.
But spring songs,
though pretending
to be about bright eyes
or the swirl of a shapely hip,
sing of that great love affair –
you and the world.
Maybe
that’s all there is,
you and the world.
Nothing else to sing about,
in the fine light of spring?
by Nils Peterson
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