Dappled late summer sunlight on the hills
sawtooth leaves hew the air
The ghost of wings casts the ghost of a shadow
fleeing over the browning ground

Mothers wash their hands
and remember plucking passenger squab
when they were girls, before
the clouds fled the sky
the earth dried up
there under the chestnut trees

On the green hillsides chestnut husks clack together
Summer light flashes under the leaves
in silent wind, waiting for the thunder