The birds are quite confused this year.
In one day the weather betrays several seasons
in one hour, the day itself.

The fragile flocks head one direction
then another
circling, in feathered squalls
turning, to follow their tails
wing tips shifting on Bali, then Knik, winds.

Our hearts
follow in the wake of birds
seeking safe landing.

We all desire that ultimate gust of air
that will lift us high and far
and with little effort
carry us
to some coveted, distant shore.