James Crews

SO MUCH SPACE FOR SONG

What made the winter wren say,

this is my home now, as it carried

stick after stick and tufts of grass

to the tractor, shaping a soft place

inside the arm that lifts the bucket?

What gave such a small body

so much space for song, belting out

notes from its perch on top of the seat,

chirping if we get too close to that

hollow

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