A bird
Sounds like a harp
For the first time.
Treasuries are full of books,
Stars shimmer
In reflections
Of a tiny pond.
Down, down, deeper into waves
Until the night becomes
Vaguely embroidered with stones.
Stones pulsate
And their rhythm
Is so tender and calm.
A bird
Talks to the cosmos
On a long moonlit street.
* To singing birds - literally and metaphorically
A bird
© Copyright: Марина Чиянова, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121051802505
Свидетельство о публикации №121051802505
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