Sonnet of the Songbird
My drumming heart, the only sound to hear,
as scents of sage pair desert marigold,
in stillness, lying fore new light appears,
one foreign-throated call through window blows.
Its gentle chirp like pinpricks to the skin,
awakes my blood, fit for the morning rise,
adobe guards the toss of piñon winds,
and frames my guest against magenta skies.
I do insist you stir unfolding dreams,
long after nature nods your farewell roam,
Surprise me! Rouse again these arid themes.
Please find me, for this nest is not my own.
Above a Talpa pueblo visions spring,
my newfound songbird over Taos still sings.
Author’s note: This poem employees the poetic form of the classical Shakespearean sonnet, capturing the morning magic of songbirds over the high desert of Taos in late summer.
“Your head is a living forest full of songbirds.”
