The Sonnet of the Songbird

30 Mar

A beating heart the only sound I hear,
as smells of sage pair desert marigold,
in stillness, lying fore new light appears,
one foreign-throated call through window blows.

Its gentle chirp like pinpricks to the skin,
awakes my blood, fit for the morning rise,
adobe guards the toss of piñon winds, 
and frames our guest against magenta skies.

I do insist you stir unfolding dreams,
long after nature nods your farewell roam,
Surprise me! Rouse again these arid themes.
Please find me, for this nest is not my own.

Above a Talpa pueblo visions spring,
my newfound songbird over Taos now sings.