Tempo for a Winged Instrument
Full of light and music, the beating air.
Light like a bird, Calvino says, not a feather.
Over the water the shags come in to land
All wings, uh-ohing over the cliffs.
Rock, their nests, and bare the rookeries.
Blue eye, blue eye, the wind plays fast and sharp.
They lift and ride and do not pick their fights.
Oh, blue sky, blue day. Heart
Of muscle, thrumming down, and swift.
