Читать книгу Where the Sky Opens - Laurie Klein - Страница 12
Exposed
ОглавлениеSo why do I always spot the homely birds?
Mouse-brown, on those twig feet
you look like a refugee. Are you hurt,
little wife? Are you brooding, as I am,
over the latest spill of blood and feathers,
songless, over the next ravaged nest?
Talk to me. Creak open a pocket-lined wing
concealing a cottontail, a collapsible hat.
Convince me the song of Zion lives, before
the long blue eye of this wind impels us
to shelter where doubt builds its house:
a tatter of leaves,
dust, and greenstick fractures.