Soon June

This is a poem I wrote one morning in the apartment I was staying in on Quai aux Fleurs.  I had awakened with a phrase in my head: “soon June”.

When I stay in that apartment – even in winter – I always leave the casement in the living room open.

That allows La Seine to keep in touch with me.

On this morning it allowed a merle noir who sat in a tree on the right bank and sang his morning song to project that song into my bedroom.

The bird song and the phrase seemed to me to have some combined meaning.

Since it was near the end of May I found the phrase both unarguable and strange.

Where had it come from?

The answer to that question as I lay there trying to figure it out became a poem.

I got up and wrote it down on my yellow pad.

Here it is.

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“Soon June”

I thought I heard someone say.

“Soon June”

There, I heard it yet again.

“Soon June”

I wonder what it might mean?

“Soon June”

Means it that June is almost here?

Surely it can’t be that simple.

Means it that the end is near?

Surely it can’t be that grim.

But:

If it were the end,

The end of what?

How easy!

If it were the end

It would be the click of the clock;

The set of the chestnuts;

The reddening of the berries;

The chirp of the robins;

The chirp of the merles.

There, I heard it.

The clock just clicked..

“Soon June”