The window’s closed
But I can still hear the birds,
My mind knows
Their words:
They want my skin,
My frame and all its hollows
To nest in
And grow.
But I need it
To further the flowering
I seeded
In spring,
To escort him
And watch over proceedings,
And support
Readings.
And so nature,
And it’s morning exhorting,
Can go spur
Its wards
In other worlds,
Where life has space to turn to
Those unfurled,
And learn.
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