In Connecticut

Elsa Johnson

Above the beach at Hammonasset a whirl of

many swallows circled just below where clouds

formed flat-bottomed as though resting on

a surface we could not see :  piling up

billowing above into the hued sky   Just there

was where the swallows flew their continuous

rotation    The water … was New England cold…

we lingered only an hour   When we left

the swallows still winged and swirled   sustained

by what…  …we could not see   Early evening

on my son’s front porch   we watched two quarrel

some hummingbirds visit the feeder    High — high

above —  a clearly modeled three dimensional

moon hung waxing in a still bright sky