I was thinking about you,
as the fan hummed in the window--
as the stars spun slowly above my little street--
I couldn't help myself from thinking about you,
as five white birds skimmed over the near rise--
while their mirror sisters gathered--
into their warm nest--
the other three fluttering near.
I was thinking about you, Sweetheart.
Did birds fly across the stars outside your window?
Did you know?