Writers’ Weir: Trust

Published 8:01 am Wednesday, August 17, 2016

A scatter of Vaux swifts, swallow-like “cigars with wings,” pluck

insects from the afternoon air. As dusk approaches

the scatter thickens into clouds of dozens, then

hundreds of chirping birds revolving in the sky.

The swirls over-lap, separate, coalesce again

into an ever-darkening cloud, swoop ever-

nearer a chimney. Suddenly, the cloud’s leader

drops into the darkness of the chimney and the others,

hundreds of them, follow instantly. The air becomes still

and silent as if the house has inhaled, has sucked birds

from the air like a run-in-reverse video

of clotted smoke

streaming from

the chimney.

• Richard Stokes, a Juneau resident since 1971, writes about nature, which he loves, and aging, which he is doing.

To submit to Writers’ Weir, email your poetry, fiction or creative nonfiction to managing editor Mary Catharine Martin at maryc.martin@capweek.com.