MORNING WITH BIRDSONG

I wake up in the morning to birdsong I don’t recognize.

Sparrows are bathing in rain gutters looking for seed.

One dog barks at his own echo.

I am finished here.

Nothing left to earth but small pain and small pleasures.

You tell me this is the beginning

a place to stand and knock at the door of the heart.

You are my heart.

In all this turning world there is nothing but you and the echo of you

and the echo of you.

.

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