I wish I could be like the chickens
and fly up in the juniper tree
at dusk, the moment night begins
to squeeze the bright possibility of the day.
Launching into sloppy concentrated flight
and then hopping from branch to branch
to find the perfect perch above
the dark and crawling dangers
that surface in the night.
Or like the shining green hummingbird
that takes one last drink of nectar
from the still brilliant orange bloom
and then darts away and up
to the curling branches of the cottonwood trees.
From this view, the full beauty
of the purple and pink sky
looms gracefully supreme
and the shadowy confusion below
|- Erin Wade|