Li's Voice

Li-Young-Lee's voice
is like listening
itself,
a small soft bird
alights,
just touches
golden plum
liquid amber leaves
with his feathers.

Honey mellows
and clarifies
the moment
in songs
of sorrow
and such loss.

Parents straddle continents
of feeling and memory
with imperfect courage.

Apple blossoms float
within an eastern breeze,
as the rascal sleep
enters
a small room
where two boys
through an open
window
dream of clouds
and skyscrapers
and hot dog
carts.