To a Little Brown Flier
To a little brown flier lying on a sill.
Who thought stained glass was sky.
Flying straight into Man's cold mirage.
Body still warm in my palm.
The final diamonds are leaving its eye.
Slowly climbing into mine.
Beak filled with bits of future's nest...
Little brown flier, yellow ribbon crowns the head...
Faith is set ablaze when life pays alms to death.
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