Poetry, by James Wadman

Streaks of a painted sunset fall away over the earth
The finches follow the young stars back home.
They close their eyes; a world of marvel overtakes them
And there begins in the night a story of rebirth.
I wonder if a finch can measure
The weight of a heartbeat against the setting sun
Or the touch of the wind that guides her home.
What is sculpted in reverie once she
Finds her way home from the stars above?
For all who read the stars can dream
When the stars are the language of love.

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