“There were silver sparrows
feeding in the shadows
of bricker-bracken
on fresh pine nuts
from an old hope chest’s cones
Theirs were waning wings
tarnished in the window
of a bricked-up build
with a china hutch
from an old age gone long
I came on haunting heels
creeping like a widow
of a blacked-out bond
who misses much
from an old age gone long
It’s all an adage gone wrong”
That’s how you sang
like a gale in the night
and the stars met
that had been crying out for eons
I cut my hand
on the feather in your hair
and the sun set
as a drop of blood into the ocean
I felt so sane
with an eye to your words
a striving get
for seeds still being sowen
I swear the wind has never blowen