ON A NIGHT BIRD
A misguided Mockingbird
sings in my driveway
at one in the morning
singing to a street lamp
A modern Nightingale
bereft of Juliet
The moon hooked on
the sky, too bright a
token and the bittersweet
smell of summer imprisoned
in my mind a quarter of a
century before makes me feelalone
A charmed portrait
etched in time that
entangled a youth
one brief summer and
broke my heart for life
or so I thought
Now that lost warbler
could sing for me anytime
I would leap at the chance
to dream the hurtagain
The mirror watches
as I tease the declining
skin to my temples
and pretend
It is quiet now
the cageling flown
reflected years
and silent dreams
leaving the lamp to
burn away the morningCopyright © Cara 1997
