Martha

Your kin still fly
uncaged and called

young November sky
                   scored countless

      For three high days they came
                                     great in massing
                       climbing, radiant
                       fire-milk lariats

           gaps in blaming
rain pursued.


When leaf-cull doors
                      low fruit to fall

                implores the motley
      parkland bronze



Your kin will fly
                     uncaged and called



Your legacy
lives on.