again, he hears her first
a bright ripple on the breeze
pulses of lonely trilling
glancing skyward he catches
an hallucinatory glimpse
of her sand-stained wings
as if to avoid his gaze
she glides effortlessly into the
blinding back-light of the sun
she emerges head first
her red eye-mask glowing
in the midday illumination
overhead, she trills again
she circles and watches him
she is as curious as he
the first of the homecoming cranes flew over yesterday