Fierce little hawks follow

along the edge of the moment,

drawn by a dance in the woods.

Shiny metal planes, unsure of their purpose,

pursue elegant best guesses out of sight.

Decimal degrees pinpoint night’s ledger of dreams.

In the dry hills above town

those who don’t fit listen

for horns and the faint engines of commerce.

Just before noon

a old man gathers up his life

into a small bundle.

It has no solution, but everything is there.