The birds don’t alter space.

They reveal it. The sky

never fills with any

leftover flying. They leave

nothing to tace. It is our own

astonishment collects

in chill air. Be glad.

They equal their due

moment never begging,

and enter outs

without parting day. See

how three birds in a winter tree

make the tree barer.

Two fly away and new rooms

open in December.

Give up what you guessed

about a whirring heart, the lttle

beaks and claws, their constant hunger.

We’re the nervous ones.

If even one of our violent number

could be gentle long enough that one of them found it safe inside

our finally untroubled and untroubling.