One street over, there’s a light that’s crowded ’round by a flowering wild cherry.
Running past, the stars still out, it looks like the light itself ’s in bloom.
Maybe this is why the robins sing at such an early hour — and why,
When my heart and lungs are full with scent and sound,
My feet, at least for a little while, don’t quite touch the ground.
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Categories: Sweet Sleep and Bare Feet