Sky to Ground

A flock — no, a cloud of Fish Crows
passes overhead honking in unison,
circles around and glides back over,
circles again, breaks up into smaller
flocks, and disperses. I am rooted in place,
enthralled. The dog’s nose remains
inches above the ground as she sniffs
along the sidewalk. Things in the sky
hold no interest for her.

I’d love to share with her the joy
of staring up at birds, regarding clouds,
marveling at colors changing
from blue to gray to black. All the same,
I’m grateful for the way she anchors
me to the earth.

Gregory Luce