The Chirping Birds Of The Town Poem by RIC BASTASA

seldom do they come here
because most of the trees are already cut and there is no place
for the seasons of nests

but here comes a blue heron with a white breast and a black beak
perched upon a palm
alone and we find ourselves staring at each other

there is no pond here and there is therefore no fish
there is nothing that shall make it stay
and so after a while it flies away until it becomes a mere dot
and then gone
and what is left is the mirage of distance

on a reflection, i am more like it when you are not with me
in this journey
this search of place where i could have sung a song
the one that you like
when you first gave me that hug that kiss.