Signs

The signs
Crystal clear
I tried not to neglect the blinding bright
Still
They are only signs.

As if you hear the squeaking of a bird
But you cant make sure til you actually see it on the bough
It could have come from the sound box or
You mistaking that of a chair as a bird's
or your vocal chord tricks my audio

Though - what but signs indicate the arrival of a season
Winter
Spring
Autumn
Summer
Positions of stars
Scent of plants and
Sensual skin would tell

The nature
Perhaps as grand nature
Feelings don't tell but showing alone suffices

Over and under sensitive
What makes beautiful treasure regret
Gem stone under the unadorned

But we are popping and complex
Unlike the flat round world of cosmo of awesome simpleness

Can't afford to lose another