Kinglet

I want to greet you in the space
where trees become stars –

here, the stars seem tangled
in bare branches and you,
you are far from me.

Somewhere, the groves are becoming
constellations, and my arms and shoulders
ache with the need to transform
into wings.

Somewhere, the groves are becoming
constellations, and you, you are dreaming,
inexplicably, about catching stars and leaves
in your beak.

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