As days grow long
and warmer, it becomes
easier to see
how everything burns
to take part
in reality.
As the sky of spring gradually
grows less
and less obscure,
it reveals, perhaps
not the text of the song,
but its birds.
It's as if mere consciousness
has taken the baton
from creation,
as all our vague
daydreams
and half-sure intimations
suddenly flush with color
and yearn
to be expressed.
