The Blue Book


I know this song, I know I do.

It courses through me like altostratus,
high and in waves of white and blue
that weave across a vibrant sky:
your song, old friend,
beyond what mind can hope,
or soul can hide
as the hadeda chorus
sounds a fear of heights,
still returning to their roosts
at the top of trees
because they know
that roots in the air
have somehow the same
fleeting beauty
as the music that beats in me,
old music hummed
at the end of each day
as if it had truly been different
and - here! - in a flight of sparrows
my truth and your song…

I know this song!

Not the words,
I forgot those years ago
so holy and inadequate
did they seem
to hold this,
the twilight where I found them,
wrapped by birds and sunset
in a song I know,
a song I know you know,
lost long ago in some memory
that we gave up for love
and so that we could keep finding it,
losing it
and learning all over again
the rhythms of a life
lived looking up.


No room for doubt

Radar Love