The Cuckoo

Remote and lonely baritone,      
the first in May, clock-work,        
mechanical, two notes,cuck-oo,        
haunting solos from oak and ash        
heralding springtime,here at last.    
        
Courting pigeons in the birch,        
green and silver bark,chill winds        
threatening winter's return,        
while solos sing a sweeter song.    
       
Hope beneath the rainbow-arch        
morning light stirring skylark twitter,        
pheasants in alarm as foxes roam.
        
I heard the first in spring,        
will tell my envious friends        
and toast the lonely cuckoo.