Boscean Birthdays

Alexander, tall, proud, pronounced in green, brown

Off-white; the yellow-flowered gold of prickled gorse;

A free-singing, morning thrush, antheming; and fairy-

Robins, tits, sparrows, flickering bush to bush,

Playing hide-and-seek with black, invisible

Birds; chough, gull, soaring, calling. Such is the

Decoration of fields, fields in which white-tailed

Bunnies skip, cows, black, brown, speckled, moove,

A lone white horse - much helloed - stands indifferent.

All of these, and more: Hello Bulls; Hello Pony; Hello

Fabulous Day; I would gladly gift to you.

I would wrap them in skies: blue; grey; grey-clouded;

Misted and unseen; seen, removed from our eyes.

I would sound your birth in rough gale or silence.

And toast it, white foam, or stillness of the sea.

But it is enough, you say, as with me

That I am yours - we love; and this being so, this day

Our days, Boscean Birthdays, are forever glorious.