Today, walking to a meeting on campus, I heard a ruckus of cranes, but looked up and saw only blue sky. I waited, and one V after another crested the hill. I hollered, “Wrong way! Go back!” as if that could stem the inevitable pull of dwindling light and creeping chill that is drawing them south. As I walked by each building on campus, I saw small groups of people standing there, looking up, awed by the force of their collective calls, and each longing to reverse the day and leap back through time to spring.
So write about a sound you’ve heard that let you know something was about to change. Or about a good-bye that was somehow mixed with a natural event, such as the southern migration of sandhill cranes.
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This is from Cast of Thousands by way of Glow:
the night she left me
August fireflies lay in the dew
too cold and heavy to fly,
scattered like sparks from a fire
in the damp grass.
they lay glowing,
pulsing with light,
piteously sending love signals
to each other
but none could fly.
i assume their tiny insect hearts swelled
their fiery fly emotions surged
hopelessly mired
in wet, chill desire.
i watched her headlights
fill the night, then vanish
as she turned the corner.
the dark rolled around me
while tiny desperate lights
blinked and blinked and blinked.
Mattie's Pillow 