The crane will mate for life, unlike a man
For some it’s rarer than the hope of Spring
Was it so when life on earth began?
Post modern love is months, not years, in span
Loss and separation our love rend
The crane will mate for life, unlike humans
Over us the fickle moon has shone
The cranes rise in a flock,away they wing
So they have since life on earth began
With peace, these rare white cranes will long go on.
When will we reach the nadir of the wrong?
The cranes dance for their partners, one to one.
Love is a true process, not a thing.
Engagement with the other,that’s our song
The crane will mate for life,may they have span..
Happenstance brings love but who knows when?