Saturday, April 9, 2011
coffee . . .
coffee & birdsong . . .
foggy grey morning
ready for change
ready for spring
on this grey-morning-saturday
and so the finch lands upon the budding curly willow
neither sex or sunshine or worms
not with drink or diversion
maybe everyone has holes they can not fill
even birds ...
idiotic & sophomoric
to learn to love the one were with ....
we are never what we seem to be
we fall apart
we fall together
we drink coffee
what i don't hold before me was never mine
and we love through the fire of time & falling
a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush