Saturday, June 1, 2019

The Bulbul From Coonoor


Chirping, singing,
To their hearts,
To mine.
Flashes of red
Darting now here
Now there.
Now me.
Unafraid,
Moving around
Making all space one.
Not theirs, not mine. 
The sudden drumbeat
Of a fluttering swoop
Echoes
In my solar plexus,
As one stops
A foot in front of me.
"Are you me?"
She, or he,
Cocks its head
Looks enquiringly,
Trustingly,
As I do the same.



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