Saturday 8 August 2009

The Cuckoo

The Cuckoo

The cuckoo lays its eggs among others’ nests
for her to nurture is considered elsewhere best.
Some might say a clever tactic
a ploy to maintain jurassic.
Her flight is not just pillar to post,
but an echo of a future among leaves keeping close.

Perchance ready made for a brooding muse
there’ll be nature’s clock’s door to open
shrill hungry mouths to soothe.
Fledgeling creativity to continue in its ruse
appetite first to hasten the food’s thrill of clues

Cuckoo, Cuckoo how will we know who?
Some to be excluded soon
to have gone and flown the nest.
Make way the cuckoo comes home to roost
meanwhile for the gatherer hen no rest.

The wood is quiet waiting for the cuckoo’s song
ascending wings far near and beyond.
Where could she be found among
unseen mysteries from the ground?

For us you are a wanderer some cuckolded
for what can’t be told.
Established barriers transcended -
laughter, songs and merriment descended.
One flew east and one flew west
and one flew over the cuckoo’s nest,
where long tall trees reveal the ways of others
free and open to perceive.
Cuckoo cuckoo, where are you, cuckoo?

No comments:

Post a Comment