three berries

A breeze blows three berries I picked
a quiet Spring two red one in a cherry
I will lean over from my heated dress
for bowing grass
to and to for the food

As the leaves the loose window
from unfold the air the tree
the Phoebe stunning the fly
his tail over a swan the seeds
jostle for slit hands

This is the pool over the mud I pour
at the door of this is water
the rising February heat
the seasonless birds in the eggs
who hang the sky

Will fall the tip the birds fail to eat
will without signal stay of fear
fail to breed slope
This is balance and the year
the will and the descends

A dress blows in the February eggs
a quiet jostle in a cherry descends
I will lean over from my heated grass
for to for I fail picked three two
the food the rising heat

As the leaves to loose and the fly
from water unfold the this is air
the Phoebe stunning swan the
over his slit tail a breeze
the seeds red for hands

At the door one of the tree window
bowing berries without Spring
the seasonless over the birds
who hang the will and mud
this is the sky the signal

balance fall the tip is fail
to pool the eat the birds
this breed to slope
and I pour of fear the year will
will stay