The flutter of blue pigeon's wings
Under a river bridge
Hunting a clean dry arch,
A corner for a sleep —
This flutters here in a woman's hand.

A singing sleep cry,
A drunken poignant two lines of song,
Somebody looking clean into yesterday

And remembering, or looking clean into
Tomorrow, and reading, —
This sings here as a woman's sleep cry sings.

Pigeon friend of mine,
Fly on, sing on.