Eyes dart between paddocks,
each a random memory, grazed

until you turn from the vast tray
of late summer’s colour samples

to the red roof of a farmhouse,
a combine reaping,

and a shadow keeping up
that you swear wasn’t there

before it sprouted wings and a tail,
a black bird swelling with

the idea of its arrival,
scanning rivers, hedges, fairways

until it touches wheels touching down
on the edge of the plains

in the middle of remembering
why it ushered you there.