.
raising the blind
to the gloom of the world
how-so-ever dully it may shine
welcoming the green
vigour of plants
to illuminate the room
even between the tree and I
hanging mist is draped
suspended like a thought
imperceptibly – droplets in vortices
swirling in dreamtime
around the thrush’s wings
as complaining, remonstrating
with a flick of her feathers
she plucks an orange firebrand
from the glowing embers of berries
looks me in the eye – and is gone!
.
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