Litnet

The bird, alone against the heat
His call ricochets off the rock-face
Long after the others have retreated to rest
He is persistent
A nudge, deep, far in my remembering
Buried under the recipes, the equations, nightmares from long ago
The bird continues, uninterrupted, tugging at my memory 
Piet-my-vrou
Piet-my-vrou
Long into the afternoon shadows
As I search through the dark pool of sounds
for the same lost call.