Did you hear a feathery breeze just now?
It whistled past the ear, Aoife, into which
You whispered your sincerest charms;
My left ear, the one I hear through the best
You do not need charms on your sleeve or wrist
But this breeze was different; while you held
My ear in sway, my hand lay empty on my lap;
Your abandonment furthered a greater design
For all my heritage hatches from a nest.
A freckled egg rests in my white palms
Out of which a blackbird awaits the wet Irish air;
Instead of your voice the trees rustle round
The grasses sough for nothing as I sough for you inside
But not all of me soughs: the warm egg rests
With the peace of the world;
I prefer you over the world, Aoife
But the blackbird will return soon
With more of the world in tow.