I Have Envy Enough
I have envy enough for the net of
swallows that skim and dive through golden air,
for the place their fragile bodies protect:
the white shuttered house already shadowed,
the water tower, the two lonesome palms.
Envy enough for the ridge of tall pines
that seem to hold the wide blue sky aloft
by pointing their crooked wills toward ascent
for the hawks nests they carry year to year
for that searing cry, for the dark lean of
shadows over the house, over the steep
graveled drive that follows the creek out.