I kept listening out
on that night
still warming itself on the hot day's ashes
and throughout that semi-tenebrous while
remaining favourably perched, a nightingale
illuminated by the satellitic pallidity of the moon
but instead of continuing to beautifully, uninterruptedly sing
had vocally stalled in wretched silence
an unusuality I could not make head or tail of.
In this instance, I am here in this famous Square
heart and soul opened
for the soothing trills that I had hoped
would smooth over the days troubled conclusion.
Something had broken out there
something that came between me and
the birds, meditative song.
Having been in his debt for so many years
I costlessly wait.