Solstice and I shut off the news of war
and direct attention to an unsteady pair
of red headed fledglings lifting off
and circling back to the hackberry tree
in the back yard. Too late I notice
a mosquito taking a sharp sip
of blood from the nape of my neck.
The reflex to hit myself lands in vain.
I think of all the invasions that fling
body parts in various directions
for various reasons. I recall waking
last night to a recurring dream: after
death I watch my molecules ascend
into the sky while this hackberry
sticks it’s nose up to catch a whiff