Sunny and cool, with the only contrails for clouds. Four goldfinches glimpsed out of the corner of my eye look like leaves gusting overhead.
jet
Thursday August 29, 2019
Cool and very clear. Even the jet thundering overhead looks porcelain. A small wasp is examining the undersides of the mock orange leaves.
Tuesday June 04, 2019
A neighbor to the east is talking about his test scores. A neighbor to the west rips down an old fence. Overhead, jets hidden by the clouds.
Saturday June 01, 2019
Contrails spread into mare’s tails; every cloud in the sky is man-made. And there goes a red helicopter straight out of a children’s book.
Wednesday April 24, 2019
The fluttery way a Cooper’s hawk flies, skimming the treetops. Later, a jet goes the same way, its contrail just the briefest I and I.
Wednesday December 19, 2018
A gray squirrel runs along the gray road bearing a freshly dug-up walnut. High in the blue, a jet’s contrail is short enough to be a tail.
Friday July 20, 2018
Cloudy and cool. Raised voices over the wall—”You always undercut me!” “You don’t even love me!”—drowned out by a jet on its final descent.
Thursday June 21, 2018
A huge contrail X moves slowly toward the south. The dog sleeps in a patch of sun, deaf to a magpie scolding from the wall.
Sunday May 20, 2018
A jet roars overhead en route to Heathrow. The rattling call of a magpie. An American gray squirrel lopes along the top of the back wall.
Wednesday April 11, 2018
The creek has shrunk to a slow procession of vowels, monotonous as any interior monologue. From above the clouds, the rumble of a jet.