The Balance Wheel

Where I waved at the sky

And waited your love through a February sleep,

I saw birds swinging in, watched them multiply

Into a tree, weaving on a branch, cradling a keep

In the arms of April sprung from the south to occupy

This slow lap of land, like cogs of some balance wheel.

I saw them build the air, with that motion birds feel.

Where I wave at the sky

And understand love, knowing our August heat,

I see birds pulling past the dim frosted thigh

Of Autumn, unlatched from the nest, and wing-beat

For the south, making their high dots across the sky,

Like beauty spots marking a still perfect cheek.

I see them bend the air, slipping away, for what birds seek.