supape

ganduri se preling la geam
si stresinile pline de ghirlande
ascutite-n noptile cu Fram
cand plapuma-ntinsa n-ajunge
sa aseze cireasa pe tortul
aniversarii bunei simtiri
niciunde n-au sa plece ele
in zorii nestiuti de maine
nici de tine, nici de mine…
se ridica si-apoi zboara
orice-naripata, mica, mare
cu pene si fulgi
multi, putini, sau chiar si fara
purtandu-si speranta cardinala
in pliscurile ciripitoare
doinele calatoriei cu esenta
transformarii si ieri si azi
in ce vieti odinioara
traiau ei, strabunii

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