Monday, 16 July 2012



See the sparrow with his
little heart, little heart and little
that babbles
and ripples with notes
like smooth stone ringing
walls sheer and singing

today there is a seeming mist
from behind the trees leaves
breathing a sigh upward

from the mouth the white sky
heavy with leaves lungs

lying suckered to twigs
like something fallen from the nest

breath picked and carried by passing wind
the boreholed core that leaves
dreams skinless
in the day’s racing light

the sparrow sits
his single note on the tree tops
little lungs, little green lungs

singing to the unpainted vanishing
whiteness this morning overhead.

No comments:

Post a Comment