Murmurous muezzin, hedge-
hiding, no reason to
silence for never I’d harm
you, not Rueheart, not
Loveliest Throat,
instead have you hand-
held, no hawk then
to sight you, no kestrel, no
cause, my Abiding, to fly from
my earshot; my Dawn Call
in coldest, in chiffony wind-
den, in aspen, in linden, your whisper
unfolding, your choir
not sough but a shriving,
a grieving of gladness; now ever
your pipe and my tremor
and ever, my Autumn,
my wrist and your measure.
Dove Song
Hailey Leithauser is the author of Swoop. She has published work in 32 Poems, The Antioch Review, Dark Horse, The Gettysburg Review, The Hopkins Review, and elsewhere.
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