Poem 2
On this side of the room lie the little birds.
On that side people snuggle in their beds.
One little bird is wide awake, eyes beady, sometimes blinking.
It understands flight, air streams, the configuration of clouds – only.
Beak like a fine boned nose,
lips like an owl’s beak.
Its call is “Help me – help me”.
On that side people snuggle in their beds.
One little bird is wide awake, eyes beady, sometimes blinking.
It understands flight, air streams, the configuration of clouds – only.
Beak like a fine boned nose,
lips like an owl’s beak.
Its call is “Help me – help me”.
Page(s) 39
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