Birds at recess, pinions slap the flat sky. I stop to watch the fletched darts shifting, Air swallows them. They tilt and turn. Fethers show new lights, dark tops in flight Then soft bright belly down as they flap, As they wheel in their wild reeling dance. Each beat bears, these leaves blown on the sky, Omens of different face than before. My clattering memories fly stampeding, Dreams of him who was my life and breath; Schoolchildren clammor, they tug at me, Drawing me from awe to reverie. Gusts of mind blinks change his face's shape, A cyclone, each bird stepping sideways. The flock's feet dance standing on plain air; Swallows spin on the blue ballroom floor As my crayoned scenes of fond regret Hatch masterpieces of cold regard. The flock's aimless dance pirouettes there Where it beats the hard air with its heels. I see it, tea leaves blurred in the cup, Blue willow holding the birds aloft Can hold them swirling round forever Until it's drained of brew and drying. So now, I tip this, my murky cup, White brim kissing my wet red lips. It flings across my tongue its wildness. The hot tea chews its way down my craw Where I tighten my bowels to absorb Each calory of understanding.