Wrens and Swallows

Trees in wet wood took shape, wrens
and swallows jarred the miles and
vaulted tall tuffs of yellow weeds. Life
in concert with smoke and mirror,
seeds born into wind in sinking reach,
moved swiftly through like myelin
harrowed of its master’s thirst. Echoes
pushed up, clinging to the feathered
flights like pilgrims travel beholden and
long, where the meager properties of
a quiet life rose by way of anorexic air,
motes rended circuitously spitting up
sparks. Swooped their little piles of
hybrid shadows, the easy birds took sky
torrid down to dust, kissed the earth-
quake country with lungfuls of sawflies.

Lana resides in the US and the coastal town of Nha Trang, Vietnam, where she is a mom of two far-too-clever-frolicsome imps.