Winter birds
The ceiling was made of cheese
but he wouldn’t look up.
He missed the elephant boarding a tram
and the winter birds gliding
along the frozen bird bath.
He heard her singing
about green hills but didn’t know
it was for him. The floor showed him
where to put his feet
but not where he should go.
the January tree
the way wind was winter against my face;
I swallowed some snowflakes
as I stepped along the creek
and saw the past lingering
in mist above the fields
there was a tree
strong and alone
and we stood in January
Precisely
I don’t ask for much
because I can barely carry the things
I already have
and even if I lost everything,
I’d still have the burden
of trying to describe
why colors of the sky are enough.
We are busy little stardusts
I fear the answer is deep inside
a finger-string game
and that we’ve been bamboozled
by misdirection
of naughty birds
who show us rings and found words
so we’re carried away
into a beautiful and deadly chaos.
I think we forgot who we are.
