Do you hear that? The midnight nothing sounds
That let my mind mull magic into word
And phrase and line until the structure bounds --
Three calls emerge from the wood cuckoo bird.
The spirits speak at hours such as these
When I'm awake -- in sunlight I'm asleep,
But who will let my soul have its release?
The tick-tock of their time is but a creep.
The wind is cool, the stars in patterns light
The pathways of neural wanderings,
Where words awaken souls with warm delight
To break the wooden meanings into songs.
And with a cuckoo call the clouds depart --
The night enfolds me with its welcome heart.