Ibis' Brew Of Love Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

White cream butterfly
in the laddered high sky,
the ibis spins a ribbon

below a feathery cloud,
as it dwindles into a speck.

It melts off, tobogganing
air's drifting staircase
through the cerulean walls
of a dropping firmament.

And floats down,
swinging and spiraling
to a halo's ballooned
swell. Carrying
sun's dandelion bulb.

Breathing out white rays
to weave and pull down
stretched sheets of light

and sheathes of clouded
beddings to spread
over earth's shamrock.

(ii)

The sun strokes, rubs
glazes and brushes
leaves and grasses
on earth's crawling bed,

its pillows shadows
bouncing to touch hairs of air
over napping ridges
sneezing out insect chirps.

As it dives down
to unfold wide creases
sketched out
by withered flowers

left to shed drops
of clotted crusty stretchy dust.

(iii)

After the bird has played
its contrabassoon
in the valley's whirr,

the drumming wings
shift to the trumpet
that makes a pearl morning
wear a cream-silver gown.

When the bell shrike
rings its bell
to let rolling light glow
into our eyes,

clouds spray themselves
to cover sky's fire
and sparks and flames.

Under the mistletoe
swinging its embroidered leaves,
our eyes shoot

at each other, our tower
soft green branches
bowing for a kiss of incensed air.