In the noonday shade of a maple tree,
a woman of twenty sings a song for me,
a song I've never heard,
on a journey of its own,
passing through a dream.
On awakening, the song is gone,
words forgotten, melody faded as fog,
flown away like a migrating bird
to perch, perhaps, on the shoulder
of someone seated on a piano bench,
who will play this little bird's tune anew,
sing it into the ether,
send it on its way again,
seeking another receptive ear,
another voice to sing this song,
maybe some feet to dance it around.
I am retired after a lifetime of various kinds of physical labor. My eighth book of poems "A Blanket of Raven Feathers" will be released by North Star Press in May, 2017.