Finch’s Song
If it wasn’t for
the finch’s song
he wouldn’t know
spring had arrived.
With blurry eyes
he looked through
the open window deep
into the irises of March
and confirmed it and
in the air, the ethereal
scent of a woman’s wet mound.
Orange
Finch’s Song
If it wasn’t for
the finch’s song
he wouldn’t know
spring had arrived.
With blurry eyes
he looked through
the open window deep
into the irises of March
and confirmed it and
in the air, the ethereal
scent of a woman’s wet mound.
Libros Libertad 