Killdeer spread their wings
over indentations in the crushed
gravel, over four speckled eggs
that look like granite washed
off the mountains and mined
from an ancient alluvium,
then hauled up the canyon
and spread like a blanket
in our driveway to keep
summer’s dust down
or getting stuck in winter’s
mud when it decides to rain.
Sometimes in the spring,
we mark them with a rock
to avoid lest we forget
little puffs on toothpicks
born on the run for bugs
and the cover of the creek.
drycrikjournal 