I watch the pieces of cloud crumble under the pure blue
and am as a sparrow, a dark-eyed darling, wind tossing
her flush face against those invisible corners
where the air mingles with dust and seed.
Trees stretch toward me, their shadows
spread like dark capes in the afternoon heat.
At midnight, in the hearth of circumference, their wooden rings
help calm the quivering leaves.
My weeping is silent, it ascends like smoke. Prayer flies past me like a pelican,
majestic over the morning lake. And I remain destitute, watching for owls
alone upon the house top.
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