Kestrel too? Dwindling now?
That small falcon somehow
quarried out of a rainbow
in its saffron and ash-blue
blazons — and nary a one
seen yet, and the year half-gone?

Watching two of them once
tumbling among canyons
and crags of summer cloud,
I felt top-lofty, proud
to be in the same world with them.
But I suppose, even then,
it had been moot how much
longer they could live with us.