like a breath

chickadees calling
from the trees

flying along the path 
black eyes bright

following
like a question

alight on my finger

light as a feather

wings whirring
like a breath
I thought I was holding 

rustling aspen along the ridge

sandhill cranes across the river

but this 

swishing

in the grass

at my feet

twisting

disappears

wolf willow shines

in the afternoon sun

sparkles like diamonds

in the October sun

silver among the gold

of the prairieland sun

Beaver dam at Beaver Creek