It’s only happened once,
As a matter of fact just today,
Two days past the middle day of May,
Spring having made the world entirely green….
I stood upon the deck at quiet evening,
Looking up into clear sky and saw a flock of birds,
Then a second flying after in silence,
Wings beating air so fast
I thought their hearts would break.
My heart broke to see the sun begin to set,
Hint of rose upon distant hills above the lake.
Whatever hopes and weight I carry,
Let go, let go within the gentle breeze.
I pin my weight upon that first flock of birds—
My hopes I send with second band that follows
Flying fast and clear toward approaching night.
I do not know where they will fly,
What they carry already lies forgotten as a dream
That passes quickly in first morning hour,
Weaving mysterious way so quickly–
Disappears as though it never came,
Never had a message, never had a name.