the sound of spring

the sound of
birds, a chill, a smudge of orange
light on the horizon.
leaves stirring in a slight
breeze.
the smell of summer, even underneath
the chill.

some insect, tittering.
the brightest stars, left shining
the flowers are still asleep
skeletal trees reaching
and of course, the standard cockrel,
crowing.

the feeling; how I wish my view of sky wasn’t
truncated by perimeters.
salmon fades into blue;
the blue that has always been
there, hidden by the moon.

spiky trees against the horizon; fuzzy trees
and crisp- leaved trees.
the odd rumble of a car, nearby; or far
away.
conversations between birds, and
visibility; i can see the colours in the
trees, and flowers.

then, the bite in the air
that heralds the sun.
if only i had a horizon, unimpeded!
dirty orange and the brown of sand.
the challenge, the space between
mind and hand.
a bird, black against the sky,
and now,
the day has begun.

©ngozi chukura 2010