Birthday

Poetry

Could I fall from your tree-branch eyes?

Fledglings beak open bloodstream

and drink,

but you – so still in all the clutter of our noise –

another season turns around

leafy hands sharpen the points of sunlight

curl up the wind so it blows nowhere

and fasten water so it is steam.

This trunk all yours and filled with

your longings.

Rise and raise us all.

 

 

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