The Skylark

[Bizzy]

I was surfing the net trying to identify the birds singing outside my window when I chanced on a recording of a skylark's song which transported me back to childhood summers running in the fields around my home and hearing it for the first time.

The Skylark
Sweat pricking my skin, heart hammering; supine in the grass.
Lungs labour; ribs ache; temples throb.
The sun is a languid, warm caress; bright on closed lids.
The blood’s roar abates, sound and sense return.
A gentle susurrus on the leaves; birdsong fills the sky.
No lips form the trickling tones,
Some unearthly process births the piercing notes
That swoop and soar above my head.
An unassuming bird; brown and dowdy,
Hiding his other-worldly song within.