blackbird song

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
sing your song to me.
Blackbird don’t sing in the dead of night:
blackbird sings in the early evening
when the heat of day is balmed to coolness
and the heady scent of raspberries and lavender
fills the yard,
when the high hot blue is mellowed
to a pale clear nothing
and the garden lies warm and at ease.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
sing your song to me.
Blackbird don’t sing in the dead of night:
blackbird sings in the early morning
while the opalescence of dawn is hardening
to a clear white light
and the cool of night lies gentle;
the rising breeze rattles the blinds,
traffic stirs, a dog barks
the city smells of sleep.

Blackbird is a bold bird
with his cocked head and pert eye,
but his song is sweeter than his heart.
Once, blackbird’s song was a father’s magic:
cunning man, cunning bird,
mimicking each other.
Now, far from my childhood
blackbird’s song is an old song –
heartache, loss, nostalgia.
Magpies carol in the Sydney dawn.