In the morning trills and calls of birds perched out of sight
And in the branches clouding out the dark and rainy sky
I remember the sound and din of village life, dragonflies in flight
By the brook-bank snails, moss, tadpoles and fish, all in my minds eye
Mossy rocks and slimy pebbles from the riverbed
The voices of frogs rining over the damp soil
The snakeskin shed but never touched, it’s poison they said