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.