Wings of emerald gem keep on plunging
With the breeze, alight on the toothed-bosom
Of loamy mass and moist puddle as
The sun sleeps and wakes--fondles the passage
Of time and landings, still more landings, still crackle
In the big magnet in silent crunch toothed-
Bosom tenaciously grinding and synthesizing
It colored the wings not with yellowredwhitebluepurple or what!
But of brownecrugreyblackchocolate milk for underneath hairs
Just for rebirth of hilarious emerald-babies
Of the same and wings where the slight digits
Of WrensThrushesWarblersandHummingbirds
Softly firmly clasp the moldy hanger hanging
Bearing reborn fluting-fluttering wings
One time again, they pop melodies of
dLovesongddelightsdamusingsdNatalsongs.
