In the early July afternoon, the millet is finishing its life.
The sun is crisping all that is. 

My brother, redwing blackbird, hovers and shows his yellow-trimmed epaulets,
    alights and appears to eat.

What risk is it to the redwing blackbird,
    this hovering and eating?
What adventure does the millet know,
    maturing and crisping in the sun?

Millet is not menaced by time's passing.

Redwing blackbird is not in awe
    of the afternoon.

But I, inside the house and aging, mark
    the hovering, crisping, and eating
    and know that they are passing by.

---James Bolner, Sr.
July, 2000