Of Love on a Summer’s Night with Birds
Faraway he calls. Calling again and yet again, ever nearing. We are frozen; beyond the pond behind us, over the bullfrogs’ bellows, we hear her faint answer.
Swoop. Click. Booming now! He’s mere inches from us, on the rail where my feet rest. Calling frantically.
We still our breaths and she is here, alighting beside him. Cooing now, clicking.
And they are off in a hushed flutter of wings.
copyright Fishburne Arts 2015