The sky was a color that undid itself;

silly putty that covered space over time,

moving south east

from the mountains.

 

The meadowlark, the cackling goose;

the red winged blackbird filled the air with sound

and without cacophony as many human voices sometimes mean.

A sonata, rather—

their ensemble interrupted only by the snap of mallard wings

rubberbanding from the cattail grass.

 

The titan nest of a bald eagle swayed in an outlying tree

as the sky had not yet darkened into what it would be.