Though I am small in houses, I can see
The moon entangled in the trees, the trail
Of stars across the sky, the wheeling veil
Of northern lights. And so I seem to be
No smaller here, outside, when night sky pales
And birds begin their banter. I am small
In houses, small in corners, under all
The floorboards of these skies. My life entails
Much scrambling. Soon the winter follows fall
When leaves let go. I plan to steal the seeds
From your bird-feeder. It is useful, after all,

This scheme of sizes. Small in houses, I
Still fit my tangled vision to the sky.



© Kevin Berland, 1999


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