In past centuries it was believed that
migrating birds would winter on the moon

There is no leaving for them
in such shifts south,

best weather is their territory,
their existence its insects

swallowed like distance.
For us, just a surging

of sky-piercing shapes,
pointed birds in search of moon-food,

and the weighty northern day
bereft. But from these beliefs

and from their visiting wings’
return were angels made.

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