unlatch this window

let words flit into the big warm grasses like so many bitty stones

like a herd of stones

like a book of stones

the tree is blank

bamboo chimes call birds to banquet

call the blades back onto their stalks

deep notes that echo each with the gusts

fussy birds bellies orbed shimmy on walls

hover inaccurately in loveliness near waving birdseed

cheeky chatter clusters around ashen boughs

leaves lay low

they speak their leaf-throats rustle crisply with sweet treason

dead beauty all browns whisked crowd beneath three trees

sun stains with titian molasses thick soft warmth

skin smoulders with late afternoon's secret light plying

sets us in snug mould cradled cradled

unlatch this window

let words flit into the big warm grass like so many bitty stones

like a herd of stones

like a book of stones

seasofme060721