As Sure as the Moon and the Sun
I’ve written no poem so far
While I wait for the words to be blessed,
In a little green porcelain jar
The wrens have returned to their nest
It swings from a beam of the porch
Glazed with the O of a gate,
In the O is a parcel of thatch
Neither too early or late
They go to their business at dawn
And they nest in the secretive night,
No one knows how they get on,
The porcelain nest has no light
When the weeks of the brooding go by
The hatching and fledging is done,
Verses of miracles fly
As sure as the moon and the sun
Pavel
May 12, 2011
