My road overlooks swallow fields,
currents of long grass
come to rest,
the hush of evening
ribboned
by the remaining veery
in woods beyond.
Out there, patiently, one hope flares,
then another, another,
rising,
loosening from the earth to fly
in between.
Some answer is there,
afloat with the silent fireflies,
almost within reach.
Looking up, I see
the mirror.
What do I expect from stars?
I don't even know
my question.
Turning, the road cool now,
I head toward home.
Flash
by my hip:
Heaven,
silently dancing,
almost bumping into me.