Red-Wings by Taylor Graham
A man and woman have stopped their car
for the sake of their spotted dog.
Along the roadside, blackbirds unsettle;
between the shoulders, traffic moves on
while a man and woman, set on going
somewhere, must stand here waiting
for a dog-pause. They’ll still arrive
at their destination, only later.
The dog takes his time with the road-
side, while swallows weave the shape
of a pond on the other side of right-
of-way, hawking mosquitoes.
Late. The man shifts hands in pockets,
fingering minutes like westbound cars.
The woman grips with both hands
at her open metal door. It’s late.
How strange to carry so much weight
and shadow, this cool May morning
with so many wings so unexpectedly
quickening the air.