the tender heart
inside its little cage
footsteps, clouds, snow, rage
even in color it was
black and white
wearing its fur all
times of day
leaving bent twigs, stacks
of stones, its
secret maps
to fly away
the tender heart
inside its little cage
footsteps, clouds, snow, rage
even in color it was
black and white
wearing its fur all
times of day
leaving bent twigs, stacks
of stones, its
secret maps
to fly away
willow willow willow
our darling singing at the well,
and up and down our road
sweet as longing that song but
the singing of it’s dying, it’s
the dying that’s all wrong, yes
the world’s a huge thing
but not much for worn pockets
or a bodice with a heart in it
or a closet full of stones
what is it that they do
when they change us for others?
oh my dear, you must know
they think to change themselves
willow willow willow
where they want, they will
where they will, they go