Year: 
2009

So lately we have come along

hoping to understand this
multitude of whistling tongues

to decode in cackles
the frankness of grackles

the s​ubtly mock-hymnal
sobbings of doves

Sure it's song, but to what use?
Love's inflection?  Bright abuse?

Cordial in the gloam one lights
quips his quips, and quits: it's night

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