Lizzy Burnam 🐞

An instinct to come, an instinct to go
like birds to the south away from the snow 

He whispered to flame and burned down the woods 
A cauterized heart bleeds less than it should 

At dawn and at dusk, the first one to sing 
is the hermit thrush with faith in its wings 

Through rising and setting and hazy eclipse
A fog on the window is ice on the lips 

The stones under water are bright and abound 
But fishing for gold is a quick way to drown 

Now that you’ve kissed where tree branches cross
Climb back down the mountain before you get lost