A day for flying chases a cold fall night.
Creak jaw of winter, gaping in the honey tailwinds.
Flight path of the songbird,
oak and juniper tree.
Sleep thrums the leaves
while the kestrel pursues.
She sings no return ticket.
She sings only a matter of time.
Still, magnet of the gut
pulls south.
With luck, there will be chances left
for sex and hunting.
For one more flight, your belly
roaring over swamp water,
your wings,
churning with such mysteries:

Sara Biggs Chaney received her Ph.D. in English in 2008 and currently teaches first-year writing in Dartmouth's Institute for Writing and Rhetoric. Sara's poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in RHINO, [PANK], Columbia Poetry Review, Cider Press Review, Atticus Review, and other places. You can catch up with Sara at her blog: sarabiggschaney.blogspot.com.