Haiku #729 – #730

729.

Wet pigeon feathers,
A day of pelagic rain
Cannot inhibit

730.

Pre-determined birds,
Their otherworldly focus
On seeds and pellets.

Skylark Song

I find a form of comfort
In the ley-like lines,
Dowsing in our jumpers,
Rains from time to time.
A nimble skylark hopping
Between sharp rose hip drops,
Blessed as ivy on the tor
And snow on mountaintops.
Deft she pirouettes through thorns
Which prick a human finger;
I recalled a union there
Wherein my heart she lingers.
If you see a skylark rare
Within a trellised vine,
Consider how the heartbeat there
Is more and more divine.

Vabbe Verbena

Vabbe Verbena,
Contro il recinto ora appoggiato,
Dove stavo pulendo le finestre
Al Palazzo della Verlina.

Ho salito acutamente una scala
Sopra i salici che piangono
Perché sono nato peccatore;
Abbiamo tutti i nostri inizi.

Abbiamo fatto l’amore fino al tramonto
Giorni di merletti e pigrizia,
Rosa svestiti e servizi da tavola
Di insalata, primavera.

E sebbene il mio cuore stesse battendo,
Tali momenti sono ancora fugaci,
Le lancette del tempo sono indifese
Carta da parati preraffaellita che si scioglie.

Quindi non importa, mia cara,
Per la scala che scivola, cade,
Dove tutte le mie speranze sono state deluse
Sul Palazzo della Verbena.

Everyday Sounds

There are noises here abounding
Though they exist barely noticed,
A closing of a drawer, a toilet

Somewhere flushes,
Humming from electric fans
Sends taut air spinning through

Summer, your tartan skirt
And tattooed hand snapping
My wishbones, like keys

To my uncontrolled blushes.
Tap water running,
Meditations overflowing.

A murmuration of sunbathers,
Suncream bottle lids opening,
Clasps on shoulders undone.

Garden parties swallowed.
Undeciphered patterns and vacations,
Wheatfields over the fence

With seventeen crop circles.
All these vibrations from life evolving,
All these times I’ve been revolving.

Yet there is no sound disguising
These memories are no longer
Moments, but instead a silence.