I am a child of the
Of bird, and flight, and feather
My dress stays stark in any kind of weather.
But if myself to catch you try,
Be gentle, lest my heart will fly
Mind—any kind of lasso I will sever
I speak too slow and
think too fast
My face—it lies and simmers
But if you catch my tongue, long last
Be careful: we're both sinners
Love and dreams on me,
But bear us not as ship and mast
As pheasants in the
step too close and I will fly.