To a Blackbird (for Auld Lang Syne )

Familiar, commonplace,

unnoticed

beneath the trees

a blackbird works the leaves.

-

Searching, delving,

stops,

and through gold rings

looks up at me,

then stirs the fallen leaves of fate

with golden beak.

-

Familiars,

since the wood's birth,

our passing easy,

you working the leaves,

me tending the trees.

http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoem.do?poemId=1396