The night before the day before my fifty-fourth year begins

The sky is a long fall up.
The dark earth a menacing swan

daring you to leave,
cursing you for staying.

Upside down May evening,
have you no ears? only

that surprised look
that you are so beautiful?

Outside the owls sit
for their portrait.

When it is done they will
fly into the silence

of spring’s little killings.
Fox at dusk. Pulling

change from a pants pocket.
The finished painting.

-detail of painting by Mary Winifred Hood