Red Breast
Barter on the fault lines of new loves and old signs
Traffic lights and stumped pines, old trees leveled and
re-grown
Heights and branches, limbs and splinters buried in the
rings
Water wells and foreign things being domesticated in the
sparrows grip
To take simple things in twig by twig
Open enough to not know, to be unresolved for all these
timbers
Miniscule in the tornado’s sprawl, picking up tooth picks
for a robin’s love
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