From the back porch,
with a few winter evenings left,
a small flock of starlings,
perhaps three dozen or so,
murmur quickly above the trees,
turn above the park
as in a parting gesture,
and vanish without a trace.
Aching from yard work,
no matter how small,
I sit on the back patio
and slowly dissolve into the sky,
where the moon follows the sun
into the west trailed by Venus.
(March 13, 2024)
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