Recurrent

Birds call with spring
in tongues
humans cannot understand
 
but interpret still.  
 
The heart is not deaf;
winter will end
its frigid dominance.  
 
In absence of warmth
we experience belief—  
 
like seeing only the hour
of sun to rise from rest;
as that egret alighting
from the eastern pond.
 
I never want to leave home;
your own being—  
it is no less than pure  
within me . . .  
 
as all seasons are.  
~