Two blackbirds in the Abbey Graveyard Making love


Two blackbirds in the Abbey Graveyard

Making love,

She dancing on the weathered grass,

Bobbing from headstone to headstone,

Tempting him with love waltzes,

Fluttering her desires,

The he bird displaying his singing,

Rising an octave to ring the morning,

To warn off potential lovers:

And I,

The invisible observer,

Involved in this melody of love making,

Watching in silence,

While welcoming my first daffodil.