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by Alexander J. Cameron 3 months ago in nature poetry

The Next Year

Kassandra Gyimesi

Dedication: For all the tail-less creatures that might inhabit your backyard, whether Earl the squirrel or Merle the cat.

For whom shall I play my paschal tune this year?

The river will arrogantly assume for him.

It is true we are friends, but my song is for my true love.

Spring and mating time, the birds accompany me with cacophony.

I resent their endless competition, each believing he is best.

Even the best of birds are the worst of creatures.

They nest in my hair and peck at my bark.

Their talons grab at my spindly arms leaving indelible marks.

The geese on the river can’t carry a tune.

They drown out my beautiful music with incessant automobile noises.

Mostly birds are tiresome -

No sense of humor, no playfulness, just endless and purposeless motion.

For whom shall I play beneath the sky ablaze this year?

Not the wind, it might carry my song away and steal my precious notes.

Not the evergreens, they sway to the rhythm but needles rather than leaves cannot rustle with applause.

I appreciate affirmation for my annual viola concerto so I must play for the one who takes pleasure,

Even when I am silent.

Unlike the birds, his toes caress my arms and he tickles me a bit.

He never fails to make me laugh, my gender likes that in a lover.

Even now he provokes the wryest of smiles with his antics.

He is very frugal except with his affection which he gives freely.

I like the games we play, my favorite – hide and seek.

Even when I can’t see him, he so adept at the contest,

I feel his gentle touch.

Yes, it is him for whom I play beneath the pink moon this year.

Unlike the river, a friend for the eons,

My lover lives his short life with passion.

He teaches his son how to love me.

This has been the way for generations.

I like the variety, each year a new lover, different but the same.

New tricks, clever foreplay, satisfaction assured.

My latest lover is particularly attentive.

I suspect, tailless, he feels a bit ugly.

He has none of the narcissism some of my former lovers displayed.

That makes him work so much harder to earn my affection.

Yes, it is him for whom I play this year

He has earned it, my true love, Earl.

nature poetry

Alexander J. Cameron

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Alexander J. Cameron
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