Two things that are lovely on this earth—flocks of birds and linen flapping on a clothes line.  Here’s a poem about them.

 

The Flock

 

They rise up like

billowing linen on a line

set free from wooden pegs

their ruffled hems fanning out

as borders of black and pink cross stitch

smooth into silent shades of gray

leaving behind airing pillows

and comforters stuffed

with feathers.