Spring Song

Borne on the wind there is a song
of arrogance. Shrilling along
the hedgerows chaste and dipping tails
clippety wings of young females
and cocky cocks — three chasing one
and twigs and tree tops to be won
and all under the new spring’s sun.
These flighty days will soon be gone
borne on the wind.

The chorus now sung loud at dawn
will no longer enhance the morn
or rend the air as evening pales
thrilling us with triadic scales
borne on the wind.