There is a bird who sings a thousand rhymes
and builds his nest with sticks and seeds, wind-chimes
sing Babel, rest ably on the cherry tree—
his breath be hardly noted, duly told
me of his neighborhood, his den
and bounty, thickly made, Ricki Ticki
raccoon rustle through the leaves,
thunder rush before the stew and snow—
the weather toe is digging in.
No comments:
Post a Comment