With all the beauties of the morning
I composed a symphony
To strum the swallows balanced in the whispering breeze
With the music of what you meant to me.
I hummed the bee-strung spires of buddleia
Nodding from ruined windows emptied of their glass,
Sung the river water dimpled by the wind
And dappled shadows shifting on the grass.
I wove the warbler’s rippling song
And the sound of shimmering silver light
Pouring from the poplars’ wind-turned leaves
With the shrill glissando of the falcon’s plunging flight.
I brushed it with the scent of roses
And abandoned garden walls all overgrown,
The dark, damp smell of riverbanks,
The lizard-golden pulse of sunny stone.
I gathered a chorus in the dawn’s pale light
From the far off woods where the blackbird sings
And filled the silences between the beats
With the fragile fluttering of butterfly wings.
I make the music swell…
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Viv Drewa - The Owl Lady 