Scrapbooking

There’s a murder of crows in the garden
Unambiguous in their demands
Seeking shelter from midnight and hailstorms
Chasing the moon round the sky
Beckoning me to open my windows
Plotting insurrections and cake

There’s a glowering of cats in the courtyard
Melodious if slightly off key
I feed them tuna and wheat germ and magnets
Wrap myself in their tails and purrs
Serenading me like lovelorn gypsies
But never vaingloriously

Can you hear that music
Can you see those lights?
The carousel is years away
The earth spins in your eyes

There’s a gaggle of geese in the bathroom
Washing their eggs til they gleam
And a harp hidden high in the cupboards
Predicting nursery rhymes and tea
Plucking strings and brows ever so gently
Daring me to strike up a song

There’s an old lady sleeping in her chair
She’s not crazy, she’s talking to angels
Seeking wisdom from her miraculous callers
Asking them everything in double time
Reassured by their tender replies
Offering daycare for firstborn cherubs

Can you hear that music 
Can you see those lights?
The past is rolling away
Tomorrow grows in your eyes

There’s a fear of ghosts in my kitchen
Patiently watching a phantom pulse
Counting the bones of day til our appointment
Til finally the clock strikes betwixt
I give them apricot juice and daydreams
They wax lyrical and help me believe

There’s a gathered crowd in my driveway
Looking up
Watching me go...
 
I’m ready for that music 
I’m ready for those lights
Today I’ll fly far away
Scrapbooking all my goodbyes