The silence is tranquil.
Eyes close gently and I feel
a soft breath beside me as my friend sleeps.
Then a sound.
I listen.
I try to decipher
then nothing.
Eyes close.
The quiet sleeping of my friend
does not disturb me.
The sound comes again -
a distant rasp of a click clack.
Click clack; trick track, brick brack;
Ceaseless, getting louder.
I lie awake
A smile pulls at the edges of my mouth.
Sleep is no longer important because I want to listen.
I know this sound.
I stay awake
revelling in the privilege
of sharing the night with
an insomniac corncrake.
An insomniac corncrake oh what joy. I have neither seen or heard a corncrake, lucky Doris. This is a great poem kept me on tenterhooks right until the end. X X X
ReplyDeleteCuby poet: The corncrake is still outside my window. I have spent many hours with my binoculars but it is very secretive. It is a privilege to live in this wonderful environment.
ReplyDelete