It o another,
t of the day.
t from flute to flute,
dressed in vegetation,
in fligunnel
the wind would pass
to where birds were breaking open
the dense blue air -
and t came in.
urned from so many journeys,
I stayed suspended and green
between sun and geography -
I saw how wings worked,
ransmitted
by featelegraph,
and from above I sah,
tiles,
t trades,
trousers of the foam;
I sa all from my green sky.
I
their courses,
tiny, ser
of the small bird on fire
he pollen.