A blue jay, a beautiful blue jay,
Humming melodies, harmonious melodies.
A verse, a young verse, develops into a phrase, a youth phrase,
still waiting to be sung.
...
The scent of honeysuckle,
Drugging the twilight
With its sweet opiate of lovers' dreams!
The last red glow of the setting sun
On the red brick wall
Of the neighboring house,
And the scramble of red roses over it!