Wren
Wren leads the charge,
her small soldier heart.
Follow her flitting sound
into the lowest corridors
This is not a universe,
It is a garden.
Trees,
a hierarchy of halls,
halls, a universe to sing.
Follow wren’s sound
into the lowest corridors.
There,
a huge gap, fox
-made,
is where blackbirds sing.
Stone-plateaued,