Feathers bristle, as we sit too close
on a single spindled branch, breaking.
Each trying to outsing
the dawn chorus.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 7:57 PM UTC
Feathers bristle, as we sit too close
on a single spindled branch, breaking.
Each trying to outsing
the dawn chorus.
(4,20)
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