Sonata Poem by gerard rochford

When you’re alone with that sweet wood,
the strings silent, bow taut, the heart hesitant;
go into the Forest of Birse and listen.
Moonlight is best; you know the music of days.

You may hear owls calling. Foxes too,
barking for a mate, and the leaves trembling
at the wind’s touch. Over your feet, naked if you dare,
you can feel insects, busy with their mysterious lives,
sensing your heat, exploring, tasting you.

Now write your song, the song of a myriad joys
the world bestows on those who risk themselves
in the darkness and have a gift for celebrating love.

Then offer yourself to your lover: like the owls,
the foxes, the insects, the wind upon the leaves.