Small things: a prayer you can’t finish
so leave to the air with one long breath
out. A sudden belief in magic

as quick as disbelief, like a swallow
flying before your car for a moment
until it peels away and time speeds back

up again. A ghost in the window
one night which is yourself. A shiver
of glass. Cracks. Sometimes you think you could

piece them all together, make a life.
Then you see starlings become a body
over a field of hares still as the world,

or a swift, that never touches the ground.