Bird

It was passed from one bird to another,

the whole gift of the day.

The day went from flute to flute,

went dressed in vegetation,

in flights which opened a tunnel

through the wind would pass

to where birds were breaking open

the dense blue air -

and there, night came in.

When I returned from so many journeys,

I stayed suspended and green

between sun and geography -

I saw how wings worked,

how perfumes are transmitted

by feathery telegraph,

and from above I saw the path,

the springs and the roof tiles,

the fishermen at their trades,

Loading...

未加载完，尝试【刷新网页】or【关闭小说模式】or【关闭广告屏蔽】。

使用【Firefox浏览器】or【Chrome谷歌浏览器】打开并收藏！

移动流量偶尔打不开，可以切换电信、联通网络。

收藏网址：www.ziyungong.cc

(＞人＜；)