Song Thrush

Hard to fathom the loss you stir in me, lying so still on my cold garden path. Burnished softness around your throat dappled with dark arrows, all pointing to the irreversible silence of this moment.

Song made flesh. Your manifest beauty unravels me. Wings wrapped tight as a shroud around the tenderness of your heart. Life enfolded back into bud.

You belong in my ears. Mystery of sound woven into woods, seeking out lost souls, like smoke from a distant fire curling around thin air. 

What bolt of thunder cast you down from the sky this day like a comet bearing seed from a distant world.

My silence is shattered by your coming.