Cliff Swallows -Missouri Breaks

Is it some turn of wind that funnels them all down at once, or is it their own voices netting to bring them in—the roll and churr of hundreds searing through river light and cliff dust, each to its precise mud nest on the face none of our own isolate groping, wishing need could be sent so unerringly to solace. But this silk-skein flashing is like heaven brought down: not to meet ground or water—to enter the riven earth and disappear.