And trees awake to sing
on this migrating morning.
Already leaves have flocked
Into nests by the side of the road.
A hundred birds articulate
the bare bones of the trees;
their last call is clear,
clearer than my window pane.
And trees awake to sing
on this migrating morning.
Already leaves have flocked
Into nests by the side of the road.
A hundred birds articulate
the bare bones of the trees;
their last call is clear,
clearer than my window pane.