Often, Because They Open Poem by James McLain

Looking back at the last one while seeing more.
Empty vacant site, weaving long stems,
there in the middle of the full crows nest.
While on top of the telephone pole, black feathers waiting.
Spring some where has finally come.
Quietly the water falls and winter it breaks.
The moist heat of the hot tepid long summer.
White as bone china the magnolias up there, rest open.
Let it be forgiven heady the breeze as the scent.
Smiling exactly to cuddle to often the tree is because.
Above I am watching.
Lovely you turn as they whisper they open.
Learning how to cry from the depths of the sea,
and full wide lips and the lips feel so free.
You, how I suffered as my once pure of sight.
To often became more than green, yellow, red lights.