Three Brown Finches

Three blocks west At the edge of the lot Three brown finches know a special spot Feathers ruffled Slender throats There is no wind there When we kicked a box down the empty road And felt like insects in a scale model Three brown finches knew where we were going Those three brown finches In comes the summer in a week of rain Put it in your pocket all is living again Here comes the summer Here comes the summer Here comes the summer