overhead a hawk...
still against a blue morning,
wings from sun to moon

arcs in the night sky...

fixed paths for the stars to tread,

mirrors of our own

∎

the moon is a fish
lazing in the pale blue ocean
of the vault above

autumnal palate
in the foliated leaves,
and the twilight skies

just airplane exhaust,
otherwise pristine azure
far as the eye sees

morning sky,
white gossamer streak...
passengers in flight
∎