Chasing measures

Cautious, sounded out my heart a
Dylan Thomas barking into the glens
from the bottom of a bottle
or, neater, clapping red raw hands
on the one and the three, loudly
to sound the call and response of the fen.
And, when you agree a meter
that catches the echo of song birds,
or startles otters rolling and scrambling
by the bank, what risk you take,
lofty in your cups to quantify
my heart in chasing measures.
For sometimes my heart is vengeful
and lashes first, asks questions later:
an April rain shower that late
lays you down, gently, for days.
Be cautious in those waters
with your attack, your sustain.