A small wet murmuration

A tiny dark cloud of wet starlings obscured by raindrops hovers over fields surrounding the airport. 

Sue is safely home, and I am glad beyond any telling. 

I came across this poem I wrote last year. Happy to have another autumn, another flash of light. Still going.... 

Raking leaves in November

Streaks of light flash, falling
onto wet yellow heaps
of autumn where you bend
over a shovel, shifting
the weight, knees and thighs
performing this choreography
learned in childhood, your
hot body leaning into the work
as it always has, still capable
in its own autumn, a symphony,
each instrument: brain, hands,
back, feet on time, keeping time
as time itself keeps you. This moment
of lunge, shift, lift, toss, a flourish,
a flash, light sweeps us both
through one more autumn, it seems
we have come to this morning and
it’s not yet over, another flash of light
to follow into another winter
as the light embraces your
dear, your precious shoulders. 

November 22, 2014