Our argument
halted, losing heat

erratic yips
their clever song rising, falling
over the deserted golf course.
One, three,
twenty voices
Lift up and fly

Howling at empty branches, cold air, pearl sky
dying blackberry vines
the pleasure of finding a voice at all
in uncertain times
the joy
the hunt

I live on their land.
There are parts of me never to be domesticated.

They are laughing,
I almost catch the joke
of thinking the wrong things are vital
They cry
wild hopeful choral

Life has this way of lasting
Defying your schedule
Singing uncaged defiant
What echoes will be heard the next morning
when unsuspecting golfers
consider dangerous changes
to their lives


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