at best—

a bird flits

across the yard

with a divine grace

from bush to tree top

as if each wing-beat,

dip, and glide

were planned

more likely— I wing

each moment; in chaos

I flail, arms akimbo—

a cartoon character

only cognizant as I fall

slowly through clouds

into a soft puff of dust

that pocks the ground

(October 4,2018)