Sonnet #231

As I live, I hide these nests inside my hair

Where songs are born, slip out, take wing

I try to say the growths are merely things

Long lost, leftovers of childhood. ignore the singing.

As I live and work, just mind gradiations,

Foraging patterns, all that stuff that spirits do

With all of us, passing through their iterations

As if they never stopped to hatch and grow anew

But autumn comes, and I see my leaves descend

And I, uncaring who may know or see

What’s been hidden until the wind rends

loose these dying papers, scattered leaves

These nests I hold, here, all of them are mine

I lift them up; I protect; the birds return in time

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