I listen
for just one sound
among a sonorous multitude.

I listen
for the roaring of a beast
that grows and grows.

I listen
from a forging commotion of preludes,
coiled baritones and swirling windstorms
singing beyond the boundary of songs.

I listen and I struggle
with harsh and raging shadows
on a ceaseless night.

I listen until I begin to fell solitude's collapse
from the salted lashing, the boundless conflict
between sea and sky.

Love sometimes ariives like that.
When it's least expected - explodes -
like the raging fury from a thunderclap.

Sing, Said the Songbird

I woke up at 3 am
with the sounds of a caroling Robin
announcing its territory outside my window
in the still slumbering morning.

Sadly, I'm faced with the reality
that meadows and woodlots
are replaced by suburbia, and soon too,
the abundance of this little bird
in a fading medley of songs.

So many little dramas
are enacted amongst the oaks
and whatever is left
of the jacaranda trees.