From this ledgeyou can see my brothers'camp fires after dark.They are not afraid to bespotted at night;Goat sure in the dark,A dirk in every pleat.You'll hear their pipesacross ravinesmentioning their dead.
After long delay I have enteredthe room of the starving birds.I bought a machine selling squirrelsand placed it in my room withpigeons on porches(their gentle, multicolored wings!),little birds in cages asking to be fed,a great black raven, and,beyond my sight, anotherLarger bird.Then I chanced them;journeyed, left the room,but I worried,and soon I came back to feed them.A sense of urgency has driven meto take my plate of omelet upstairs.
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