(From Magpie Tales by Morris Graves)
The light splash of warm water---
a day to begin where things are wrapped in seconds
like roasted peanuts in a paper,
hot and crispy, I wish I never miss the continuity
I never miss a nut, to crack open and taste
what life holds in, wrapped from my sight.
A lady with a bandaged leg walks
with her bag, straight to work place, I guess
she doesn’t stop, she can't, I guess.
Little kids in rain coats, their first day
in school accompanied by June’s down pour-
ing dreams. Wet and busy roads,
pondering and calculating, like that
spiked cashier there at the counter
on things gone and coming.
A cuckoo sings from somewhere inside
Not like that teenager’s headset that keeps her
aloof from the world around, for she didn’t see the
old woman standing while she was seated in the bus.
My cuckoo sings lovely, and I saw her in many
other eyes too, she sings from the darkest woods
from the vastest skies and deepest waters,
she keeps me in touch, and I see her in many others
too, life goes, not like those lads’ cigarette smoke
and not like those ladies’ venomous gossips
its transition, here silence sings, light talks
and smiles takes us on walks.
Amidst daily rush, some like us flies,
and its transition always;
the cuckoo sings on.