We watched splinters shiver
Towards the sun, perched
Like juniper berries thirsting heat.
“Even the birds are confused”, I said.
Perhaps I should exchange flowers
Or myself there,
But its easier to blame
The bird-brained for
My own uncertainty.
I am finite
So unlike
The sunlight gleaming
On a raven’s feathers. Unfettered,
Our cilia dance like wheat-grass
Thawing in abnormal January
Warmth.
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