Sunday, April 10, 2011

Summerhouse














I’m lying in the company of goldfinches.
Soon, they’ll build a nest in my hair.
For now, their laughter enfolds me,
Filling the valley’s pure air
With colour and movement
I’d almost forgotten was there.
Tomorrow, when these same skies are daubed grey
And cold winds penetrate everywhere,
I’ll rise to the memory of birdsong
And pick out a rainbow to wear.

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