Oct 16, 2025
Murmurous muezzin, hedge- hiding, no reason to silence for never I’d harm you, not Rueheart, not Loveliest Throat, instead have you hand- held, no hawk then to sight you, no kestrel, no cause, my Abiding, to fly from my earshot; my Dawn Call in coldest, in chiffony wind- den, in aspen, in linden, your whisper unfolding, your choir not sough but a shriving, a grieving of gladness; now ever your pipe and my tremor and ever, my Autumn, my wrist and your measure.
Dove Song by Hailey Leithauser
