Two birds flew around a branch

Two birds flew around a branch.



You saw this. You saw



 



one, struck, fall into what



is below and in that water



 



stretched by strings it seemed



out, feathers at strained



 



and calculable ages, still



in its geometry, fly in circles



 



to the edge. We are all different



with some people. In summer



 



you found Loretta



in a bush. She did not



 



recognize you. Where was she



going. At the edge, standing,



 



you saw the bird step--



nothing is going to happen



 



to you--to where rippling



breaks step from reflection,



 



out of its depth and pivot



down to float back out.