It seems it may be true that Fate follows us, like

the tenants that have rented Number Nine.

For all that they appear to look like you and I

or Number Nine looking like Number Eight…

I knew it took those martins weeks to build that nest

Temple to dip and fall of summerskies;

 

There was that day a hover hush upon lawns

As cheep on cheep, one by one, each went-

except for one, (there’s always one), they stood and snorted

the D.I.Yers at a job well done-

when whoosh, divebomb assault, the martin pair harried

the Niners back into their brick.

 

Defiant now, display of flight, spiral circle

risings, electric blue flashings, then glide

across a sea of sky in cloud of barque to guide

their fledglings to Horus in green reed fields.

 

I lift the gift that gravity has given me

and bring it back, cradled in cupped hands,

the sun and moon and stars to me; now I’m the bird

that rises with the sun, that feeds and watches

that finds this noun is always where I’ve wished to be

that names her Wing, and calls up to the skies

where sometimes, I fancy a pair of martins hover

and wait until the day she’ll want to fly my nest.

 

Two ladders that the D.Iers had against the wall

fell flat on top of them upon the lawn….

That day, her beak to mine, was when my Wing took wing-

I watched until I could no longer see-

But still on sleepless nights, I hear her cheep my name

And join her then to starfly wing to wing.

Deirdre Hines is an award winning poet and playwright. Her first collection of poems, “The Language of Coats” was published by New Island Press. You can hear her read some of these poems by clicking on the You Tube link on www.deirdrehines.com. New poems by Deirdre will be appearing in the January issue of The Lake and Deep Water Literary Journal.