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 sheer 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
are known the hardest
points of their ellipse
those shapes amaze
my interest
(like viewing an eclipse)
I am sentinel
at her behest
to guard 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.