The love queen tells me the redwings are back,
at night, as subtle as Odysseus.
Creatures of tundra songs and midnight sun
have come to bless us with their clarity.
And soon I hear one calling in the dark.
But how can I meet such beings like this? –
my soul is tattered, and as full of holes
as alder leaves the wrong side of summer.
And ash leaves are strewn all across the heart.
Ravens fly and play, but far up above.
It rains all day, and the river complains,
but the full moon flies high between the clouds.
Come day, the world is messy but now washed.
I find myself under a flock of redwings,
pouring from conifers across the fields.
They have found the glowing rowan berries,
and so they call and chatter, full of life.
Perhaps now I can meet that man, my king.
Come home to the blessed circle of love.