Swallow-tailed Kites

All I knew was that they were here,

and then they were gone, somewhere

between the moon and darkness, a mirror

of night in scissor-tailed sorcery. 

I don't know where home is - 

it is not in the lexicon of those

in perpetual motion, and such haste

that even a snake must be snatched 

between wingbeats, between action

and reaction, in the ambition to be

guardians of their own ovate omens,

such hurry that there is no time 

for names - the silence of the air

rarely snapped beyond alarm. 

This is the urgency of purpose - 

we are biologically armed with love,

for love, and I have always understood 

the safety of quiet - perhaps these kites

are a perfect reflection of existence - 

of my life, of our lives, how each wave

of pain arrives and departs in tides,

why we all nest amongst the needles

of a loblolly pine, entrenched in clay,

roots woven into ancient bones

and the fossils of memory. 
 

Image is from here: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:72_Swallow-tailed_Hawk.jpg#mw-jump-to-license

Also on Twitter: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Egg_check_list_and_key_to_the_nests_and_eggs_of_North_American_birds_(1886)_(14727865346).jpg

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mary_Vaux_Walcott_-_Loblolly_Pine_(Pinus_taeda)_-_1970.355.672_-_Smithsonian_American_Art_Museum.jpg

Written for Peach who sent me details of swallow-tailed kites and told me that when she was a child that she thought they appeared and disappeared magically.