As if the artist had caught the frenzied flocks with his deftly drawn blocks, of pelican pigment ink
Is it the dawn rising that brings such life; is it the season for migration to the land of his rice paper
Do the gulls play with the swallows, or are they each as oblivious to the others presence as he to the canvas
Outlines, of many kinds of questions, filtered through my mind
As if the soul had sought such fragrant stocks, to lay on my sweethearts frock as I smile and blink
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