So What Has Become Of The Yard Bird? Poem by Mark Heathcote

The wind and the rain gather you.
Like petals in a rainstorm
So what has become of the yard bird?
That stirred the captive rainbows
To your and my fingertips

What has become of the rose?
That danced off her dew-wet shadows
And sang adjacent the jasmine stars
Sweetly scented at the first cut of hay

That lay in sobrieties corn circles
That lay in bed on this course way
A filly jumping over any such hurdles
Whatever happened to us

When did you slip through my fingers?
Like a broken rainbow
Like a rose long cut
No freshwater can ever save anymore

Oh, when did these chard's take thorn?
Was it something I did sadly wrong?
Like an overzealous gardener
Did I prune your rambling ways too soon?

What has become of the rose?
That danced off her dew-wet shadows
And sang adjacent the jasmine stars
Sweetly scented at the first cut of hay

That lay in sobrieties corn circles
That lay in bed on this course way
A filly jumping over any such hurdles
Whatever happened to my love to us

So what has become of the yard bird?
My pretty yard bird today...