Tag: siirden (of Poetry)
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morning in the garden – siirden / cycles/ empty house
morning in the garden O heart ! My tree is full of small birds, red flowers. I am below the level of the bee, the wingbeat of the wren. A new robin dapples through his never-ending blue, green. My tree flowers beat red like hearts in warm rings. © Chris Murray 2016, 2020 Published ANU […]