And a flock of blackbirds arose
from somewhere in my heart
winging away before I could count
their number
while on or just beyond
one of our many horizons
an eye blinked
slowly
watching our days unfold
and somewhere far from here insects
floated in the waning light
of an early summer eve
just above
a dew-gathering plain

Crows overhead
in a late October sky
evening
near dark
a few late warblers
in and among the trees

at least
the crows were silent
as they winged past
and therefore wise

the dog, fed,
stretched out upon the sofa
thin chili on the stove
steaming faintly
the two of us here
a hand-drawn map
upon the table
a reedy voice crossing the plains
you        and        me
and nowhere else
to
go