Mute morning swallows
spangle the winter sky

leaves on the ash tree like little gray ideas
a single bird – thrush? lays down a fancy trill,

the only volunteer
to try out the air’s acoustics   

standing here in the early cold,
blaze of oranges & almonds in their bowl on the blue table,

part of all of it pushing against the light
& the light, pushing back

Valerie Wallace

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