Laraine Kentridge Lasdon Poet Free verse

In the Company of Birds

In the company of birds     

My eyes are red,
the red of wings.
The simian stain
of my human graceless
sorrow and pain seeps
into the noble architecture 
of the nest, but no blemish
can dim its rosy stems.

Morning follows morning, 
seductive mist full chill.
I sit on a wet stone wall   
under flustered, verdant ferns.
 
Red birds fly
from oak to cable
without guile,
their tangible grace
nestling in me.

I feel the tremor
of wing and heart,
a choir of birdsong
in delicate harmony
with my timid voice.

Morning after morning
the red birds,
uncorrupted by futility, 
capture and teach me,
at last, to fly with audacity.

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