Anna Akhmatova Waits In Line Outside the Prison In Leningrad
I wait for you little sparrow,
so long I have rooted outside this wall.
An empty tree my stiff and blackened branches
lift to hold you,
or leaves leave. Only these,
just these send secret messages to you,
words not even spoken
only breathed when the wind allows it.
I am here for you little sparrow.
Brittle in winter, now snapped
imagining such a small song;
the sweet trill of a child that seeps through
stone, and mortar, and those that trespass against us.
I am yours little one.
I am still yours little bird.
If you come I will teach you the notes.
When you come you will nest here in me.
pea river journal 
SUCH beautiful writing in this poem, as mysterious as the image. And on the whole – what a nifty project!