the wicked parrot on the bough of a tree
behind which you stand touching the sea with your eyes
across the mountain, echoes the parrot's mimicry
of the conspiracious whisper of the wind's message from the moon.
when the wave gallop and swallow the dune
how can you stay so lone at noon of night,
when the storm bloom and fright the lazy leaves crook
how can you stay so aloof at sight of a slush june night?
you film the hue
monochrome with due of supple moon
reaking of the sly scent of the mountain moor
past the grove the world renew
and at the nook of the world so new
raspberries groom, in the slumbery june.
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