OSI: Birdie

You aren't in step with me.

There is no hand to hold,

but you are the orange of leaves,

and warmth of sunlight.

I hear you in the crunch

of acorns underfoot.

I smell you in the air.

The craggy junipers are blue.

I pluck a sloe and taste the

gentle, calm, and sweet.

The birdies are still singing.

I can't make out the words,

but the melody

is true.

More OSI: Here