And Just The Birds

And Just The Birds...

Elegy of silent windows of wind in the boughs of the trees 
of the plain of lights wrapped up in a grief 
The crest of roof broken'n'left walls overgrown of grass'n'wine 
white shrub washed down of drops of storm windows bunged with rotten boards 
And just the birds live here wanderers from distant hills 
the bringin' the breath of a space breath of unreal impetus