I have sung the songs of first birds
Of morning’s wish of the flying away
And clapped my hands for the sun
In the loving gold grace of your eyes
The fault must be mine to
Not know the silence
That comes before the dawn
The minor birds of dream
Have fled my grasp, slippery doves
The humming bird seen once in a lifetime
I have sung the songs of peacocks
To the uncertain harvests of Mandarin
The orchard white, the orchids of Taiwan
All the spring stored of so many years
Of youth’s last wish for love
Those joys usually reserved for God
All this celebration that is the springing of the year
To jump in prayers more subtle than pleasure.
Photography Credits: http://browse.deviantart.com/art/A-Time-for-Magic-II-377276625
Wuji Seshat 