It's a giving day. It's a loving day. On a California Road Trip Shallow is the wave of the setting sun Settling around the toes of the trees. And it washes back when she blinks. Wash around down when she blinks.
Sparrows pick the wave of the setting sun.
They sing over the whispers of the trees. The dip down to bathe in the soft maroon And rise up at the sweep of her eyes. Rise up at the sweet sleep in her eyes. It doesn't know it's dying, she said, so I reached down to touch it. It spanned an evolution chasm to bit, to wrap itself in a circle about my hot wrist.