you came to me with what she said
about the birds
chasing their tails
and waiting for what
you asked if it was true
about the pain they feel
for the seasons change
and it's time to leave
you said she was a poet
so you didn't know
if migration pangs liminal
some table approaching
there's a licence, you wondered, i think,
if it's like a distance going
like art exhibit glass
that just can't help it
and for sure
i imagine
she became lateral, laminar,
in those moments
and quietly
i thought about the wind in the willows
repeatedly
about the moon
and the swifts on the power line at the barn at the base of yr wyddfa
with the friend i no longer know
those years ago
i wrote it down,
and all of it
all of it's true
said,
i think she was talking about herself