Author Xue Tao Dew-rinsed: their pure notes carry far. Windblown: as dry, fasting leaves are blown. Chirr after chirr, as if in unison. But each perches on its one branch, alone. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Reviews Post review No reviews yet. Log in or register to post comments