Heat in the open fields, birthing milkweed silk, brushed by berry thorns; cardinal of the catalpa canopy, high-pitched longing pumped from crimson heights—(I give thanks for your instructions.) Wetland, dry by June, you charm baseball diamonds wreathed in butterflies, when my life swirled white and orange and you, red and reckless bird, I almost forgot your whistling, cheering me to flight.
