Poetry
Love robins more than the spring
Where should our love manifest itself?
Where will we place our plumage in the plummet of winter into spring?
Where are the weavings of dreams?
Catchers for first people's
Blood on the fractured and birch for a baby
I cry a solo song for a lover
To fetch my music
It strays above the new spring
Where embraces are bolder than water as they
Wear down the stones.
A phone is not a singing bird rushing in quickly
Even if the video fetches you a
Happier meaning
A way
A place relevant for now
The leaning light on the broken wall
The muddied heartbeat where
You were overthrown in
That golden hour
Where true love can be.
Photographed deeper than the
Moments the album may bring
Upon its pages
Turning
The children sing with the birds
Common sparrows on fenceposts
Common sages
True marrow and birth
Of life rushing in
As the chalk breaks on the
Concrete
They draw a robin alone
On a branch budding and blooming
Calling for a love poem
To written for all the ages
But the adolescent hand only
Knows the depth and breath
Of a new home.
Francis A Willey
May 8th 2018