Birds eyes

Leaves, twirling in sunlight

Tiny sardines, lazy horse’s main, lush lianas and those looking like giant broccoli

they seem they know their stuff.

Breeze in the trees and on my eye lids.

Shade still in the corner of the morning, cusped in my coffee cup.

The horizon, a silver line

spotted with towers like from sand, and red and pink splashes, tropical trees

I want to breathe this wake, turn around and around on this open plan, never-ending horizon.

Birds, this is their medium

cutting through sun- soaked morning breeze

landing on one the branches or reaching for the sand castle.

How I wish I could hold on to their strong neck with my tiny palms

jump with them off the pillow heads of magnolia trees and orange flutes

running through the shaded labyrinth of most unimposing branches

even those that think they are leaves rather than bark,

circulating and zigzagging with shrewd speed the air full of dew

just because.


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