The trees clack
& sway as I walk
between them. Cloud-
shadows race over
the ridge, making the sun
flicker like a movie projector.
It’s thirty years ago, or twenty.
It’s just last week. I hear
a harsh cry & look up.
Right overhead, a raven —
out flying, I’m sure, for the sheer
hell of it — kites sideways
& upside-down into the wind.
It keeps pace with me
for half a minute, as one
might navigate by any
predictable thing.