The sky called to itself
\nin its mirthless emptiness.
\nIt had wings.
\nThey flew in vast, irregular joy.
\nThe air boiled with their flight.
\nWe heard them coming.
\nCries from the purple dusk.
\nHorns blowing the last gasp
\nof an organ.
\nWe waved in exhilaration,
\nas if angels had materialized
\nfrom the zenith.
\nFlock after flock
\nover the tired heat of the day.<\/p>\n
In the encroaching night
\nJackie yelled like a thrush
\ncalling to eagles.
\nMichael pointed,
\nhis small voice calling geese, geese,
\nhis storybook come alive.
\nCatherine and Melissa,
\nin the falling beauty of the race
\nabove us,
\npointed to a storm
\nof ancient energy.<\/p>\n
And inside,
\nmy heart circled from east to west,
\nvibrating,
\nas if a song,
\nlong suppressed,
\nwas set free from its cage,
\nand I was liberated,
\nlike a bird resigned to death,
\nnow seeing his brothers and sisters
\ncalling him home,
\ntaking his children with him.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The sky called to itself in its mirthless emptiness. It had wings. They flew in vast, irregular joy. The air boiled with their flight. We…<\/p>\n