Shining bread flies
and the land cries.
The spirit song so sweet,
deaf to concrete ears
and the wings of the heart are still.
I am famished
in the land so joyous.
The Rook has embraced me
with a weary smile.
Oh how soft the feathers of death!
His song is tears.
The Bird of Paradise
alights on the fencepost.
I bury my face in his breast
and sob the song so deep.
His rainbow feathers are like lightning,
giving life to the heart.
"Dry your eyes, little one.
The sun is yet rising."
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