my song is a worn out tune that sings and
plays a worn out harmony about this time
of year, but, in June when full bloom of the Jericho
and  Mulberry  bushes and the harp sings with thrushes
melodies
robins flitter
and squirrels are gay
I dance along the very edge  of the starlight flickering the
moon's edges
a flitter
dance with gaiety happy
along the edge of the farthest
galaxy