Canarini #3 Poem by robert dickerson

Dreaming elders, steeped in garden shade
nodding amidst squashflowers and dangling primrose
tremble at the treble of his soft serenade-
unwanted interruption of a chaste repose
long sought, and long, long denied.

But the poet, the eternal stranger-in-town
whose days are an endless series of ports
a havenless going and coming from-
recognizes in that lorn report
his kind-and feels for the moment at home.

At home at last in a siren song
another might rudely reject or ignore:
lease to persist for precisely as long
as his Epithalamion threne endure
through hall and kitchen, cellar, keep and lawn.

Good reader...