Monday, October 18, 2010

Avian

You turn your head at a kind word
an encouragement from two doors down.

You look back as would a bird
at a bit of foil or string.

You make for your heart
a nest of these things.

When the wind blows,
you know where you found each;

You clutch them in clenched jaw,
muscles hard as the pit of a peach.

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