b. flynn
low and away the light was still,
as if horizon's traveller were not promptly met,
and the warmth between us hastened away.
I watched a sparrow who on silver wing
climbed higher and higher into morn.
drawing twisted flight plans
o'er the changing winds,
into the empty air he rose; into the light.
O bird seek your loft, your place of being.
fly swiftly
above the treetops your wing impresses.
then make us both happy and sit by her feet.
sing to her of love.
bring her back to me,
washed in sweet lilacs,
singing of love.
O bird were you close enough to hear my call?
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