I do not know your name
but you sound like a coach’s whistle
at a soccer practice
somewhere across the valley.
Irritation at your constant calling
finds balance here:
among blackened snow piles,
your song promises green.
I do not know your name
but you sound like a coach’s whistle
at a soccer practice
somewhere across the valley.
Irritation at your constant calling
finds balance here:
among blackened snow piles,
your song promises green.