Behind the lids
the sky is red
in the abyss of the ear
rivers roar in the treetops
the surf of the sky breaks
in the mind
thankful jubilation, the waltz of wings
a bud embracing
the kiss of the sun
wood pigeons cooing
in the crown of a birch
wings flapping frantically
five down feathers
floating white and free
against the background of the blue
Behind the lids
pink sugarfeathers
of the cherrybird
spread
as the season moves
over the sky
where the great poet looks up and in:
– take notice and dream on
while the song of the bees hum
‘It is not done it is not done it is not done.
Not done
before the queen drops
honey in the bowl
with the heart my hands bring.
(from the collaborative, bilingual collection ‘in defence of the cherries’, brumar 2019)