The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves,
The full round moon and the star-laden sky,
And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves,
Had hid away earth's old and weary cry.

And then you came with those red mournful lips,
And with you came the whole of the world's tears,
And all the trouble of her laboring ships,
And all the trouble of her myriad years.

And now the sparrows warring in the eaves,
The curd-pale moon, the white stars in the sky,
And the loud chaunting of the unquiet leaves,
Are shaken with earth's old and weary cry.

white noise…
the sea's crashing bass
and the droning drum of
brushing insect legs
tinny string ensemble
washing through open windows
onto bleary floors of
driftwood canvas
polished and swept with
grainy sand
traipsed in on the soles of
baby blue flip flops