We wake to a breeze carrying
the earth-smelling chrysanthemums
hearing a rustle of wings,
the katydids flee the back steps,
swooping down from
heights beyond the black crows,
the coo and brood
of pigeons lined up
on the wires
cherubim, dominion, thrones
not lost on the sky,
nor remorse that hungers
no movement beyond the scarecrow.
I tell you:
katydids are always in another state.
Remember their green grasshopper skeletons
Remember how the Black Phoebe builds a nest—
mud, clay, and twigs?
and insects hum above it,
feast on slow grubs?
by Ariel Smart
Santa Clara Branch, CA
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