Singers of the Tree

by Aidan Andrew Dun


for Sam Smith at the Church of the Pancross

In the top of the tree of life
singers, birds of the altitudes.

Suns, oranges of light, cascade
radiant nectars, honeys

Sweet past Adam’s apples
through each thankful throat.

There’s a dew which forms
on the sprays of the mind,

There’s a rain which falls
through a turquoise night,

A river too, symphonic
far below reflecting melodies.

Fine words mean nothing
when these songbirds give praise.

At the summit of love is art:
to sing the direction at last.

Raise your eyes upward,
once more bow to the heart.