Singing Synaesthesia

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

The warbler stands upon the blossom branch,

The beak so tiny that a miracle

Alone might clarify the avalanche

Of bloom-like melody, of lyrical

And petal-like arpeggio of notes

Upon the April air.  The petals, pink

And white, produce the purest antidotes

To winter, making memory of it slink

To be forgotten in the height of May.

Confusion in our hearts combines the hues

With sound.  The white and pink become the play

Of music.  Petals and the measures fuse.

  Another miracle is that the dun

    Of warbler makes this serenade of sun.