there's a nest of starlings in your eye

your darling
eyes
chirping,

wrinkling
skin
with thrill

of feeding,
trilling
their soft

overture
since we
first met.

i watch
with care
should they

tumble
from the nest,
so bright

and small
they huddle,
and when

storms
shake they
splinter

me into
kindling.
their

feathers
reflect
more rays

than my
compromised
eyes

have ever
seen.
and if just

after waking
they
greeted me,

i should
die birdwatching,
happy.