While crows sleep, I search dark cloud-covered skies
obscuring moon, full and bursting, devise
schemes to pare down, live minimalistic.
A killdeer in distress spirals, mystic
plover calls. Ancient lyrics fall on ears
stuffed with sounds duplicitous feeding fears
society subsists on. Making lists
while sunrise hints and plays with blue-shade mists
I’ve lost the rhyme; I’m trying to stay true
to love’s most simple path. Aim high. Askew
impulse-driven males precipitously
begin panicked flight uncritically.
I’m grounding, watch my family run by
making wild choices. It’s their time to fly.
At last the lightening sky, overcast
grim bearers of gloom threatening amassed
the day forebodes with muted calls to wake
and treasure even this intense heartache.
Hummingbirds voracious in fall’s chill, sip
before starting their migratory trip.