Calendula Hillside

Swallows are out swallowing insects. Like 

Dark cigar smoke trail wake. Chickadee get close. 

Where have the swans gone? 

Which way to the interstate? Don’t worry, 

We drink water 

From a well. Do you like cedar? 

He brings his lips together in a quiet smile, softly

Turning and looking into the distance. 

A yellow butterfly,

Then a white butterfly, fly low over fresh-cut grass.

It smells like fresh-cut grass and a

Train bellows through the dandelions, 

Pushing them forward, like snow, 

Through porous walls of sky. Invisible 

Trumpet sounds

Ripple in and around, call out to

Middle-aged stars: the Pleiades cluster, and others.