After evening papers have been thrown
Walking home I take a detour
To follow a drainage culvert
Ending in a fallow field
Overgrown with mesquite and weeds.
I wander down a dog path to a brackish pond
And add my reedy imperfect pitch
To the croaks and croons, warbles and whistles
Of the sundown jam session
As frogs tune up and birds nestle down.
My own voice cracks from dryness.
I pause – ears attune to some distant song
Overwhelmed by this noisy autumn rejoicing.
I search the deep blue above.
Shading my eyes, I look west,
See! a jagged ‘V’ crossing sky lanes.
Such longing in those faraway honks
Is almost lost in immense indigo
And vast violet as it darkens to dusk.
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