Exchange and Curiosity

A gull stood on the clock on Clearihue.
It cocked its head as if it heard a sound
inaudible to creatures of the ground
and underneath its feet the tower grew
into a riddle, with a nonsense clue
a secret with a turning cipher bound,
as if a combination could be found
by listening for clicks. I listened, too.
I heard the tread of strangers walking by
below in flocks, some squawking, through the door
to vaults of molten blue. I left the sky
outside and gladly gave my wings for lore,
for keys, for coins, for mysteries unseen.
But when birds speak, I don’t know what they mean.


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