michael

he traced the airplane line

with his finger

the expulsion from the jet

cutting through

the cloudless sky and he would

lie on his back for hours to do this

in the cool grass

On a trip he was inside a plane

he was going across the ocean

closing his eyes 

he recalled what he would

do in the cool grass 

When the plane skimmed at

the surface of the briney deep

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claire

the snow compressing
underneath her feet was
her favorite sound
steps were made Pausing in between each
each foot compacting
the white underneath

winter walking lent itself to a discovery
her foot would have crushed
a bird after a cat attack
displayed stark against
the blank snow

sidestepping
this she scooped
in her hand to bury it
and after she did not
so much relish the sound of the snow