not that we could
He was big—
not hawk, owl, eagle
certainly not crow or dove or robin
cardinal, blue jay, chickadee
our entire, combined, list of
Possibilities.
He lifted up from the forest’s edge
circled once above us
then a slow, slow glide away
As if he heard us wonder
As if giving us time to know
No matter. We were not clever
enough.
And though we watch
that patch of woods
question itching each time
he hasn’t returned which
despite the itch
may be the better gift—
our own particular mystery.
Puff Of Smoke Poems 