From branch to branch, past the old garden, a bird drums high then low.
Translation: Compact and green, unripe
like plum before the idea of plum.
Deceptively quiet, the trellis
alive with energy. First day
of the year: did you feel
the switch? Something sings,
reaching through each
register. The aperture
never closed.
[LAG-signature date=”01 01 2012″ url=”http://morningporch.com/2009/01/67815131/”]