Updraft. Heat Waves.


The airstream adjusted north

like a snapping of a belt

and warm currents of wind

pushed the beads of sweat

across my temple.


Crows and turkey vultures

ride the updrafts as surfers

of heat waves up and up.

Theirs is an effortless span

as they gather warmth under


wings and glide on a mobius,

stripped of gravity,

and stoked with grace.

To them, the horizon

curves shapely across


like a woman with child.

How I long to be lifted up

to float on a precipice

and draw concentric circles

from a point of grace.



“But those who wait upon God get fresh strength.

They spread their wings and soar like eagles…”  Isaiah 40:31 The Message Bible



When came the light upon the eastern ridge,

the trees crowned with fire hold black winged fight.

A day awake and yawning and a murder

skips across the gaps in the canopy.

Yet again they talk boisterously

and aid interruption of created

things besides myself.

I simple black line of poetic insistence.

Flying punctuations.