The hawks are dancing with the sky,
Singing with the heaven’s loft
Where we walked the Fall
Joining in their high chorus.

They cast a shadow of harm,
Like our planes over the desert heat,
Dropping desolation’s gift.

Where I wished isolation,
Nature knows my heart pang,
Swallows swooping seat my eye, calm.

Faster than I can write,
flame of thought,
Feathers against the pale blue sky.

My mind suddenly frozen fast
In the heat, melting
My words lock on this letter.

18 June 04.

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