The Balance Wheel

Where I waved at the sky And waited your love through a February sleep, I saw birds swinging in, watched them multiply Into a tree, weaving on a branch, cradling a keep In the arms of April sprung from the south to occupy This slow lap of land, like cogs of some balance wheel. I saw them build the air, with that motion birds feel. Where I wave at the sky And understand love, knowing our August heat, I see birds pulling past the dim frosted thigh Of Autumn, unlatched from the nest, and wing-beat For the south, making their high dots across the sky, Like beauty spots marking a still perfect cheek. I see them bend the air, slipping away, for what birds seek.