This love letter, folded in two, is looking for a flowery address. [The Butterfly: 88]

Nimbly dashing here and there, he's lighting up the autumn leaves with the little torch of his tail. [The Squirrel: 96]

They teach me something every day.
/ They put full stops in the air with their little chirps. / They draw a straight line, put a comma at the end, and then quickly go on to the next line. / They put crazy brackets round my house. / They fly from my cellar to my attic too quickly for the pool in my garden to make a copy of their flight. / Their light, feathery wings make loops and flourishes that you couldn't possibly imitate. / Then, two by two, they embrace and join together to put ink spots on the blue sky. / But you need a friendly eye to follow them, and while you may know Greek and Latin, I can read Hebrew, which is what these birds who live in chimneys are tracing in the sky. [The Swallows: 128]