Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Birdsongs




Sunday morning drizzle

Sitting in this

Sitting with me

Birdsongs

Chirps and chips of nothing

Falling

All around

Falling, dancing

Undoing the veil

Inviting the unknown guest

Pointing, pointing

Blades of the sweetest fire

Then

Walking in all this

Robes flapping in the wind

A shiver in both trees and spine

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