June Hours

James O'Connor

On the wing, a cardinal startles,
Becomes a shadow juking inside the pine tree,
One chirp the clue.

A dragonfly battalion hovers over the lawn,
Held by the precision of glistening wings,
To seek some vantage with prodigious eyes.

I know what I see
But not what they see.

Seeds float by on the golden air.
Little puffs too dodgy to touch.

Of warbling
And other songs,
Duets and solos,
Precise and clear,
Unknowable,
Until the sun
Drops, afire and final.

The sky flares, pales,
And all warmth falls
Away slowly.

We have darkness again.
Shy lightning dances behind a cloud.

The lonely bullfrog moans
For love, for love, for love.

In a long, far salute,
A train whistle caresses the night:

Remember the hard truth of a thousand iron wheels.