Beneath pastel afternoon, after rain,
soft-grained, mid-May sky,
the curious quirks of new-fledge birds
hazarding novel proclamations -
fresh cut keys in virginal locks
of their throats unseasoned, musical
jack-in-a-box adulthood
startling themselves it seems,
cocking inquisitive skulls
at this lumbering animal stilled by a bill.
Run hands along the wet hedge,
bathing in this day's juice, in the
shook melt of textured leaf-blades and
cool plash of their sprung rush, savouring.
YOU ARE READING
Tapestries
PuisiPoems from 1978 onwards. These poems are in a different style from the later MajorSeventh, the earlier ones often with more of an Eastern-influenced cadence. Later, they vary a lot in form and style.
