{Packing}

From the upstairs window
half the view is gold;
dried grass and Russian
Thistle, what tumbleweeds
are when they still have
roots.  The other half
is blue, pallid, or placid,
it depends on your mood.
On the neighbor’s roof
five magpies are raising
the alarm, chasing
a flicker from the dried
-out pine. A bee won’t leave
well enough alone, a thin
breeze comes to shake
the spider’s lines,
and when it comes down
to it, letting go is as natural
as holding on, but us, we’ve
lost our guiding instinct
and lean too heavily
towards flight.