Canary

My love's a canary

while at her nest

lurk cuckoos

she's mothering

but upon request

she'll set them loose

when I'm the cuckoo

at her breast

between two smooth eggs

attempting to pursue

a secret quest

(to climb the longest legs)

often tried and fell

without rest

to reach those eggs again

(and even cracked my shell)

but now I'll test

my beak against

the tips of which

I find the hardest

points of their ellipse

those shapes amaze

one with interest

(like viewing an eclipse)

I am a spy

at her behest

to watch them overnight

with eagle's eyes

(for I've the best

of all views in sight)

until the sun awakes

rising from her rest

she flutters up again

to bathe in lakes

and always protests

as I follow her in

for her love's a snake,

her one (and only) sin.