We Look for Migration
For months now,
I notice what seem
to be to leaves floating
and flapping in the air
over the freeway, above
my windshield and car.
Butterflies. Buttery
yellow and orange,
mottled brown.
I see them and drive
beneath them,
their small, fervent
thrashing. Winged
things always look
like they are leaving.
Above the butterflies,
clusters of black birds.
For months, I’ve read
the scattered tea leaves
of their flight as departure.
Where we look for
migration, we will see
migration. If we anticipate
what we think we know
is coming, we won’t be
as startled by what it
brings, the evening where
the afternoon once was.
Marvelous! I so love "Winged things always look like they are leaving." I'm glad you've seen the butterflies in migration. Love the art, too!
ReplyDeleteTea leaves, bravo!
ReplyDeleteIt is finally cold here and I'll be on the look out for flapping wings.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem Hannah.
This is wonderful, Hannah. Your "Winged / things always look // like they are leaving." is a marvelous line.
ReplyDeleteThe encaustics are lovely.
I had this thought when I was looking at the birds the other day and as they flew by they looked like the leaves on the trees...An incredibly warm poem Hannah!
ReplyDeleteLove "the scattered tea leaves/of their flight"
ReplyDelete"winged things always look like they are leaving" just too beautiful, heart ache almost :) thanks for writing and sharing this with us
ReplyDelete