You have come out to look at something.
Close your eyes and let it be outside.
Cold on your face and open.
And the light already going out of the day.
There is a sound up above.
Thin Calls.
Hi.
One after another.
Coming on and carrying past.
Leave it where it is.
Above you in moving.
Take a breath in.
And let it come back.
Out on its own.
Again.
Let the place come up around you.
Open and low.
And wide out to the edges.
Whatever's underfoot here.
The sky over it is one gray the whole way across.
No sun in it.
Nothing down here is lit.
And nothing casts.
Look up into it.
They are crossing it.
High and steady.
And all the same way.
Not a few.
You would lose count in the first minute and they'd still be coming.
This has been going on for days.
It started before you noticed it,
And it hasn't let up since.
Nothing up their circles.
Nothing slows.
Not one of them is looking down.
Now bring your eyes down off the sky.
Out ahead of you.
A good way off.
There is one on the ground.
It is theirs,
Same kind as what is going over.
You know it by the shape of it before you know anything else.
Look at it from here.
Do not go to it.
Nothing is hanging off it.
The wings still flat and even against it.
Folded the way they fold.
There's no blood anywhere on it.
And nothing about it is bent.
Its eyes are opened.
Bright and opened.
And taking the place in the way anything takes a place in.
And it moves.
Watch it a moment.
It takes a step.
It turns its head.
And holds it there.
It puts its bill back into its shoulder.
And works at something.
And brings it out again.
Ordinary.
Every bit of ordinary.
It isn't dying.
And it isn't fine.
You didn't see it come down.
There was no evening you stood out here and watched this happen.
You came.
And it was on the ground.
And the rest were up.
You you You have been out here before this.
More times than you would tell anyone,
If anyone asked.
And you know what you are doing when you come.
You are finding out whether it's still there.
It could be gone.
You'd come out and the ground would be empty.
And it would have caught them up.
Somewhere.
And that would be that.
Or it could be dead.
You would come out and find it.
And that would be that too.
Either one is a thing that happened.
Either one has a day on it.
Go back to the last time you came out.
Before you are near enough to see.
Coming up on the place.
With the ground still empty from where you were.
Something in you got ready for it to be finished.
And then there it was.
Up on its feet and alert and looking at the metal distance.
Feel what went through you in the second before you were glad.
You didn't stay on it.
You never do.
Neither one is what you get.
It's there.
It steps.
Its eyes are opened.
The sky over it is full and going.
There's nothing out here to push against.
Stay where you are.
Don't cross to it.
What have you caught yourself wishing was over?
The grey doesn't change.
You you Look at it again.
It puts its head down to the ground.
Take something off it.
Puts its head down again.
It's eating.
It will eat tomorrow too.
And nobody's going to ask you about it.
Not because it's small to them.
Because there is nothing about it that looks like anything.
If it were dead,
You would have a sentence for it.
Six words,
And the other person would know what to say back,
And something would close.
There is no sentence for this one.
So you will carry it the way you have been carrying it.
Out here.
And nowhere else than by yourself.
And you will never find out.
It's Alert.
It's on the ground.
Both of those at the same time for as long as this goes on.
Stay in it and listen.
The calls are further apart now.
A gap.
And then one more.
Off pass where you can follow it.
Keep listening as it goes thin.
And under it,
Another sound.
Near.
The one,
The place you have been.
And has been making the whole time you have been out here.
You Follow that one in.
Your eyes will open.
When the nearest one.
Is the only one left.
It is a long way from over up there.
