I could sleep

away the season’s end,

head upon this pillow

of bronze ferns

& oak leaves turned

the color of doeskin,

Cheek pressed

to this still-green bed

of moss as you sing

against my ear

Please, let me remain

undisturbed until

the heat has passed

Though this means

I must wait

another year to hear

your song.

— C.Birde, 9/22