Birds and bees rest lonely in the garden,
Suckling the milk of bleeding flowers
Until their mouths drip sweet golden sin;
Clear feathered wings piling in towers,
Reaching and ripping empyrean sky
To lick a relentless tangerine sun.  
How you take up but a corner of I,
While razing the grasses of all but some -
Outlines of spring buds painted with cold, blue
Reality, pooling beneath my feet
Ready to drown the air for me and you,
Washing green til it's the color of wheat.  
Serendipity fills me with unease
As I sit within rings of broken trees.