Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Monday, June 15, 2020

Sonnet #292

The birds have no reason to sing, I think -
The sun rises, song rises, when foraging
Is more important than music, storaging
The extra for a leaner night, and I think
The song reveals the birds to hawks, snakes
To all the hunters of the morning, who hear
Who listen close and move, there’s no fear
Of death when singing, the shimmy and shake
Of their dance among the branches is not
Meant for love, just yet, and even if it was
They sing in all seasons, these birds, not 
Just when spring arrives - there is no because
To songbirds, we are wrong to make their thoughts
With measures meant for music meant for us

When all the songs of morning are sung for no one

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