If Song
If I had a song, it would wake me
in the dim before dawn with its buried
drumbeat of dogs breathing
beside the bed.
That song would tune up
past the window in a reedy piping
of some bird I never noticed,
setting up reverberations of dream.
A song would march me out the door,
where sun finds its notch
between pines, so I’d hold my palms up
open, soundless in applause.
If I had a song, it would keep me
going through the day, a tune I can’t
get out of my head, puzzling out
a word that seeks its rhyme.
A song would feed me, tease me,
blow me kisses and taunt
me with its triteness/rightness
till I became the song.
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