Rolls like a kettle-drum
on the other side of the pass
where my lover once lived
in a plain wooden house
under a sky that carried weight
in its splendor and its solace
We saved hours underneath
the dogwood tree, silent
holding hands, lightly old-fashioned
lovers bent on listening as
the yellow-billed cuckoo sang
sadder than the rain
Everything I can’t explain
carried in these clouds
close turned into distance
love turned into pain, still.
the cuckoo keeps on singing
the thunder rolls again
on the other side of the pass
where my lover once lived
in a plain wooden house
under a sky that carried weight
in its splendor and its solace
We saved hours underneath
the dogwood tree, silent
holding hands, lightly old-fashioned
lovers bent on listening as
the yellow-billed cuckoo sang
sadder than the rain
Everything I can’t explain
carried in these clouds
close turned into distance
love turned into pain, still.
the cuckoo keeps on singing
the thunder rolls again
Photo by Vidar Nordli-Mathisen on Unsplash
