BY JOANNA GALE
Copyright is held by the author.
I watch you crane your neck to watch me soar
across valley and rippling land above a farmer’s field
over grasses gone dry where cattle once grazed
over chopped wood of a wood lots deadwood
sticks planted in the crinkled skirts of leaves
fallen before their time this year of drought
you can see it strain their autumn song
become a dirge—almost unheard—wind currents
my wing feathers rustle in cool air
along the receding waters of great lakes
coasting their river’s low flow into the rocky creeks
i watch you drive your golden car sailing
