Tempo

The tempo quickens in this early spring

I see the birds pass seed from beak to beak.

Is it not love behind this offering?

A vow or promise? How are we unique

In our traditions when the wedding cake

Is shared that way by the new groom and bride?

Is it not love? Love will not be denied

In Spring or any season. Hearts may break

Yet love survives in memory at least

When touched by love we are somehow increased

This is the meaning of our wedding feast.

So much excitement rustles through the leaves

And I observe, happy for nature’s gift

In its simplicity, sudden and swift

Yet certain of the goodness it achieves.

My busy birdhouses stand in a row

A great diversity of song in air

I settle for the few bird songs I know

Until I see the singer perching there.

In December I open every box

Intricate nests fit squarely in my palm.

In Winter when it is quiet and calm

Except for the bird formations and flocks

Storming the sky for a moment or two

Bursting from leafless trees so suddenly;

My husband and I sigh when it is through.

The distant Spring will arrive when its due.