valley. They rode thermals until they were almost out of sight,
then dove, and swung back in circles over my head. The air seemed insufficient to their size—one eagle is enough to fill the sky. Two of the birds veered toward another, and when they met, shook their open beaks and tumbled for a moment before swinging back into an easy glide. They made graceful, abrupt turns, and when they did, the sun hit their backs like a mirror and reflected a fierce copper flash. The sky behind them was so severe that spots of white light began to dance in my field of vision. I don’t think I could have watched them any longer if they’d stayed, but they drifted off, with no other purpose, it seemed, than to fly.” from Even So: New & Selected Poems
I am dreaming of a desert alive with mystery. December 3-8 outside Santa Fe.