Magician's Wife

Marjorie Miller, Spring Promise

Your bride listens to the nightingale
her hands the same colour as the first flowers,
the plum, the peach, the apple,
the little ones like lilies
between the mossy rocks
on the small hill we walked to last night.
I sat at the feet of the statue
the birds' song was a colourful living weave
more colourful than the orange sunset
Perhaps you kissed my hair
took me by the waist and twirled me in the air
when I started complaining

Your wife prone to complaining,
your self-sacrificing wife,
bitter, paranoid, constantly escaping,
timid, vulnerable, frail,
or like a copse of birches in the Spring
misty green, fresh, patient
with a hint of joyfulness

Your bride hears the nightingale in the darkness
and smiles softly