to be a bird, to be a song

photo by neamoscou

When the Birds Sing

At dawn, before their wings can be told
from leaves, when light is still
a streak, like flying.

On dim days when all the fields go
veiled, and any named thing might be
something else.

Late, when a woman can no longer
take back what she has told
her man, they sing, and

she is alone, she thinks, in the barrens
of her own heart, and yet she knows
the birds are there.

- Lola Haskins