Part of 'Poems Through The Cabin Window' |
{/center} On the slim twig the little bird sings. The tiny bird sings Twitter pitter Twitter pitter Through the long grass the little vole patters. The tiny vole creeps Pitter patter Pitter patter Between the maze of stumps the porcupine lumbers. Then scurries at the bark of a dog. A patterned annoyed scurry To escape the dog Patterns. Through the grass and in the sky. Through the trees and rotting stumps. Between you and I. Who can read the patterns? The patterns that weave together and force apart. The patterns that will us to be, And force us to let go? I really don't know. No. I really don't. |