The Great Bird of Love
I want to become a great night bird
Called the Zimmer, grow intricate gears
And tendons, brace my wings on updrafts,
Roll them down with a motion
That lifts me slowly into the stars
To fly above the troubles of the land.
When I soar the moon will shine past
My shoulder and slide through
Streams like a luminous fish.
I want my cry to be huge and melancholy,
The undefiled movement of my wings
To fold and unfold on rising gloom.
People will see my silhouette from
Their windows and be comforted,
Knowing that, though oppressed,
They are cherished and watched over,
Can turn to kiss their children,
Tuck them into their beds and say:
Sleep tight.
No harm tonight,
In starry skies
The Zimmer flies.
–Paul Zimmer
This poem is for David—my personal, powerful, magical Zimmer.
Tags: Paul Zimmer, Poetry
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I’ve had this recurrent dream all my life.
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This does not surprise me. You exude that largesse in so much of what you have written.
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How lovely you perceive your David this way – so comforting. G
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G, From what you’ve written about Rumpole, my guess is you would have similar feelings…thanks for your words.
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The beautiful lady’s hand, wrist unbroken, promise upheld.
A light enclosing framework, the Zimmer, the helper, something wonderful in it’s surety.
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D, speaking from the Inner Zimmer…
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Beautiful, inspiring poem, and a great photo to match it. Wow. The best poems always make it seem so simple, because they touch on that magical place where thought arises.
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Thank you C for your words, spoken as the poet you are.
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