...Tinsel the precincts of the winter sun.
What loftier organ than these pipes of beech,
Pillars resounding with the jackdaws' speech,
And poplars swayed with light like shaken bells?
Wings that could be hands, but are not...
Cries that might be pleas yet cannot
Question or disinvent the stalker's gun,
Be your own hammerbeam angels of the air...
Carol for the Birds
Anne Stevenson
Verse Daily
