2 a.m. and all’s well.
From black depths of sleep
I am drawn by a song.
High on the balcony of the redwood tree,
mockingbird riffles through his repertoire,
that serenade of whispers, warbles, whistles, and chirps,
enough to shame a symphony of whales.
Hear now cat meowing and meadowlark’s,
“See. See. Don’tcha see? ” Then chickadee’s
“twee-ouuu” segues into the “aaan, aaan,
oop, yowza, yowza” of Engine Company #3,
served with a ride of valkerie on the side.
Tossing out passion like birdseed, mocker
trolls the night with music to
catch just the right sleepy lady.
Instead, he gets me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem