She the red-eyed girl-bird
will appear her nest with the
mud from our gradings
clean her beak against the
other wipings on that exact
o of her home haunting
up her flight slanting
to the horizontal branch,
just right for the hatching
smoothing that ooze with her
own tongue so that it cements
with the sunlight, even in leaf-shade.
She and her sisters sit day night day
calling through the stars at night
their haunting whistles grading
new scales, new down, new apostles
to fill the world up with songs
leaf-litter scratching, spreading the
words of their wings.
Beautiful Lucy!
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