The Thinking Poet


June Blackbird

Ecstasy, sudden joy, Deo gratias!

Always that inestimable gift that falls like a snow flake

Only to melt at hand touch;

A tiny island of moistness

To plead uncertain sureness;

It happened!


Thatís how it was in the summerhouse soaked in June splendour

An hour, an aeon ago.

A blackbird song that gathered with it

Every gold beakís bountiful burst upon summer silence I ever heard,

A puffball of sound; no

Not a thing, not an event,

But a rending of the veil of here-and-now,

A peep into eternityís perpetuity.