Augury
- A slow spiral of hawks wheels in the sky.
- Even in the open you squint to spy
- their prey and find nothing in the field.
- One never sees the dive, talons
- stretched wide, the climb back on
- thermals that slowly raise the dead.
- You read the shadows as runes.
- And one sows crimson seeds
- where you can't see.
— Paintbrush
Spring 1992
