first light turns the upright
of my nightlight
into silver
gleaming at the edge
of vision opening the path
to day
birdsong flowers
sweet and plangent
hitting notes cut harshly
by the awkward squawk of parrot
in the distance
bird on the run from cages
singing in a raucous joy
I envy
captured in reluctant flesh
that cannot feel the gentle brush
of wind or rain
but still warms in the sun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem