the feather clouds all spread out like fingers
to keep the indigo sky from falling to pieces

we enter

the little stars of scilla, ink on green
all my steps, all your steps coloured

a time

by the rudimentary snowdrifts, liverleaf
anxious to look, to be seen all in blues

of breaking

they come in waves, the intense
moments of longing and memory, all


when earth thaws once again in my blood
and you are in the tree-song, bird-flight and returning


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