pariah ovenbird Oh strange one with your sea glass eyes worn smooth by so much sand, the light comes in all green and brown and sharp as reeds. And this gift of sight, you wish you could roll it up and tuck it into a bottle and toss it to the waves. Better to be blind than unseen. It all comes in, the world a flashing deluge, and you’ve tended to your quiet truth, this silent planting. Did your heart give all it had? What else matters in the end? The future will forget our names, but now we have this one brief chance to hold each other’s hands. This is the thing that we’ve waited for: to find another whose eyes are drawn to the same hawk diving, to see it together, and know exactly what it means. 260505 what's it to you? who go blather from