Twitter: Moon-Suns

The air is screaming, “Hawk! Hawk! Hawk!”

Hay bales settle into the shorn field.

I’ve been lost in a world of tiny mushrooms and painted lady butterflies.

Stained glass insect. Little windows in the air.

I want words to be smaller. I want to see the sky.

There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun. — Thomas Merton

The sun, obscured by the moon, took on the shape of a moon. A confetti of moon-suns fell at my feet.

I will remember what I heard more than what I saw: hundreds of cicadas flexing their tymbals in the false-dark day.

And the one dying at my feet as we entered near totality.

I will remember silent streets and still air, charcoaled sky, the amber of streetlights.

I will remember any or all of this. Or none of it.

That old question surfaced: What matters?

I still don’t know. But here I am, with eyes.

how you can look back / on a life & see only salt there — Sam Sax

Who am I without the barn swallows?

Twitter: Nobler Animals

The bird you can hear is the one who has the sweetest song.

Earlier, I saw a heron flying and thought it was a ship slicing the air.

American goldfinch, drop of sun.

The birds give voice to the trees.

Two ravens ink the air.

How small the bird. How vast the sky.

After the rain, a house finch bathes in a pothole.

The sky lives through the birds.

Wet swallow, who destroyed your nest on this stormy day?

Swallows, turn my home into your nest. I am only here with your permission.

The barn swallow’s body is a sunset within the sunset.

Neighbor, how can you walk with your head down on this beautiful night?

One swallow, it seems, is having more fun in the air than all the rest.

Sweet robin, I didn’t see you there. But I heard your song.

I’ve had nobler animals in my life than humans.

Starling, that’s a window, not a way through.

When you clear the land, you must confront the sky.

Landscapers, what have you come to destroy?