It is the
sudden movements through the air
that catch my eagle eyes,
the wild dart and loop,
the calligraphy marks,
sky written and invisible,
amid midair hovering, feeding, and fighting
with wings that beat
thousands of times per minute
and hum louder
than the earth’s quiet murmur.
It is the
flying jewels, neck feathers,
glistening in the light,
the ruby reds in a vibrant sun,
that draw me into their supernatural memories
of past migrations,
of rich nectars and flowers
along hundreds of miles
between breeding and wintering
grounds.
It is the heralding
of spring and fall,
without pomp and circumstance,
that their appearance and disappearance
foretell with a sharper vision than my eagle eyes
will ever know as I wander from
room to room, window to window,
in search of their beating wings and sword-like
beaks
when the flowers blossom and fade.
cmheuer, © October, 2022
No comments:
Post a Comment