If only there was nothing left
To take – I’d free my shimmered voice:
Released to sing as thrushes sing,
At dawn, at sunset, call the earth.
If only I could hide away,
The fields would know my tranquil heart.
A peace which only plovers know:
I’d be – and nothing more than that.
But then you’d lose the glittered back,
The gleaming iridescent wings,
The gathered glory of my nest,
The golden rings and silver silk.
I wonder if you’d miss the “chack”
And chattered questions I shout back?