zaterdag 10 januari 2015


The clear song of the early wren
trills between the wake up sounds,
from hedges, bush and to fascine
it looses his sharp vibrato cheer,

looking through my little pane,
I see a robin sitting notes to sing,
auburn, orange, he blows his whistle,
my morning is open, my day begins

again but still so new, I see the silver lines
on and through the spider's web, trembling,
on the corner of the gutter a sparrow trots,
staccato but light-hearted, the twittering,

I hear their song ringing in my heart
hum on the rhythm of this little poem
before I even see them, I feel them in my head
the birdies, which make me leave my bed.

© Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere


Geen opmerkingen:

Een reactie posten