by Laurie Block
Without love how would I be here to see this day dying how would I notice the golden light anointing airborne wings, the holy outcry of ice letting go and birds as they soar and descend, returning to touch the open water of ancestral lakes, the nests that hold their deep blue history and perfect oval future. Once again I am here, in time for the arrival of eagles and untold geese more ducks than I can name: Mallards and Teal Bufflehead and Golden Eye, each one recognizing their home in creation, gifted to read the opinion of the wind and call out the complete story of up and down. Myself I don't need to know why they fly or who dictates the revolution of heaven and earth it's enough to see the season turn, to hear the hum of generation and witness them govern the green shifting territory between water and sand. This country where I am always a guest, walking along the edge, welcomed and cleansed in the smudge of the setting sun.