Ruby throat rising like the sun:
beat, beat, beat, darling one!
Sliver-tongue, sliver-tongue, sliver-tongue,
tremble your way to the flower cup,
into the sheath of sweetness,
into the shell where the syrup runs.
Sweet tongue, lithe tongue, flickering wish:
Still as drumsticks, quick as fish.
Crow family groups often include a yearling, a sort of apprentice nest builder, who brings all kinds of stuff. The nesting pair pick out what's useful and show the yearling what to do with it. Every once in a while I still dash off a poem in response to the Morning Porch: I'm always so chuffed when Luisa re-uses some of the materials I've brought.