Transcendental Sonnet #1345:
Sibling Birds We Smiths of Words

All of us we smiths of words
Alone with one another
Mouths agape like baby birds
Are hungry with no mother
There is no one to feed us
But us my sister brother
And that is why we need us

Together we victorious
Sibling birds we smiths of words
Rise up from our nest glorious
Returning after we have flown
To share what we have seen
We know that we are not alone
And we know what we mean

+Steven Curtis Lance



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