While Watching the Birds Fly South <br />for W. S. Merwin <br /> <br /> <br />1. to be <br />that and that alone <br />the lone bird who flies <br />over a palate of god-painted <br />landscape <br />whose music is the songs <br />of mourning whose rhythms <br />are the voice and the creation <br />of the winds <br />of the god <br />of the angels. <br /> <br />2. that for me would be enough <br /> <br />3. oh, to be a bird <br />rather than this human skin- bag <br />this unpredictable soul <br />who it is claimed <br />will die will rise <br />from the dead. <br /> <br />4. just to die, then disappear to a powder <br />to a dust, the only thing left <br />a jeweler's box of hollowed bones <br />that embraces the wetness of earth <br />in the shallowest of graves. <br /> <br />5. like the stones on a beautiful necklace <br />that circles the breast of earth <br />as the pearls that you will wear <br />when you will still be beautiful <br />and me, I will be no longer around <br />my moment, time will have filched away. <br /> <br />6. death and flying are the greatest <br />of arts the greatest <br />of masteries. <br /> <br />7. I will not speak of love <br />its belief and hope and masteries <br />which once were a warming fire <br />are now a kindling's ash <br />that doesn't waste its measure <br />on the color of a crow. <br /> <br />8. once when young I listened intently <br />to a flock of geese who were lost <br />on an October's night <br />their calls greased the night <br />with loneliness. <br /> <br />9. a reminder's moment <br />that parallels all memories now <br />of love of loss <br />of the darkness of night <br />of birds winging south <br />for warmer climes. <br /> <br />10. I pack my books of poetry <br />in boxes now <br />for a move <br />to a place of my own <br />I stop my work for a moment. <br />Autumn geese again flying overhead <br />crying out seeking direction <br /> <br />11. like anguished prayers <br />of a crucified God.<br /><br />r james sterzinger<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/while-watching-the-birds-fly-south-for-w-s-merwin/
