In this blue sweater,
my chest is muffled, heavy
beneath the spring sky.
Eucalyptus leaves
whisper poems like wind chimes
behind a bird's song.
The white Nissan truck
and the navy blue Honda
reflect the June sun.
The spring sky clears out
the fleet of clouds; the ocean
clings onto its foam.
The birds' songs follow
a night of vacant dreaming;
I forget them both.
The June sun beckons
me outside, where I will hear
birdsong in spring skies.
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