In the Net of an Hour
June 12, 1981
The sky is a bouquet of birds; our tree is a flutter of birds. Take any view I will -- there crowds of things are wanting words. Two Monarch butterflies dance down a stair I cannot see, then up again. I watch our clowning kitten stalk a bee. One wind is emerald in the grass, oe azure in the sky, and I'm aware that others pass invisibly nearby . . . The glance I gave a pair of wings just at my edge of sight has netted me an hour of things all j oyously in flight.