He sings. Or calls.
He is born knowing how to sing.
To sing and to fly. He knows to leap from the branch
with faith. He holds a force
and keeps it. A driving force.
He knows it.
He belongs to it.
He makes it. Flying
he makes the sky. Singing
he makes the voice of God
the bird-catcher. On the branch
God now twitches
testing the newborn Spring
to the vault of
the flower. He prays.
He does it with colour.
He does it with light.