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	<title>Zócalo Public SquareThe Bowerbird &#8211; Zócalo Public Square</title>
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	<link>https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org</link>
	<description>Ideas Journalism With a Head and a Heart</description>
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		<title>The Bowerbird</title>
		<link>https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org/2014/05/02/the-bowerbird/chronicles/poetry/</link>
		<comments>https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org/2014/05/02/the-bowerbird/chronicles/poetry/#respond</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 02 May 2014 07:01:49 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>by Cynthia Cheung</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[birds]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[nature]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org/?p=53558</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>He builds a sitting room:<br /> a roof of twigs, a carpet<br /> of purple flowers.<br /> On the floor, fruit shines<br /> and stones make it proper. Women come by when they feel like it.<br /> Many turn away, keep looking<br /> for something better. He waits. Then, every so often, one will come<br /> to stay in that sitting room.<br /> And in the privacy of his blue beauty<br /> in that perfect space,<br /> she will lift herself, spread<br /> her wings, each feather trembling,<br /> and seduce him<br /> with her small flash of finery. The next day he begins<br /> on the walls. The paint he uses<br /> is the color of his lover’s<br /> body, the promise of the stars.</p>
<p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org/2014/05/02/the-bowerbird/chronicles/poetry/">The Bowerbird</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org">Zócalo Public Square</a>.</p>
]]></description>
				<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>He builds a sitting room:<br />
a roof of twigs, a carpet<br />
of purple flowers.<br />
On the floor, fruit shines<br />
and stones make it proper. </p>
<p>Women come by when they feel like it.<br />
Many turn away, keep looking<br />
for something better.  He waits.</p>
<p>Then, every so often, one will come<br />
to stay in that sitting room.<br />
And in the privacy of his blue beauty<br />
in that perfect space,<br />
she will lift herself, spread<br />
her wings, each feather trembling,<br />
and seduce him<br />
with her small flash of finery.</p>
<p>The next day he begins<br />
on the walls.  The paint he uses<br />
is the color of his lover’s<br />
body, the promise of the stars.</p>
<p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org/2014/05/02/the-bowerbird/chronicles/poetry/">The Bowerbird</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org">Zócalo Public Square</a>.</p>
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