the wind in the trees puts me in a trance
again
in the backyard with a record player
a long orange extension cord
a rock star cellist from the 1940s
my beloved wife joins me
stops herself
when her gaze lands on tasks
that will not get done today
we spot a falcon or kite
not a hawk or buzzard
tiny in the high wind
arcing near the clouds
quickly eight more appear
drop from the summer clouds
that race across the sky
we’re out of the plastic chairs
standing close to each other
our arms touching
bare feet in the grass
watching the paths
of the distant birds of prey
in the sunny blue sky
_______________________
Bob Hudson is a complex multicellular organism produced by millions of years of evolution.
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