He’s somewhere up there in the just-budding
leaves of the maple,
I am straining my neck, tracing every outstretched branch
and twig; I can’t spot him anywhere
and now he is unspooling his notes stronger than ever.
I give up searching,
decide to stay accompanied
by the refrain whose origin
I don’t need to see to believe,
only keep listening
for the unseen song behind everything.