Evidence

Something about the silence 
following in the wake of a day 

of wind. Something about the moon 
that was new two days ago and now 

swells toward fullness, after which 
it starts hiding again. From the video 

doorbell, we have a recording of a swift 
flash of wing, an iridescence. A humming-

bird, darting across the porch. It is almost 
a mirage, a rumor, a dream, if not for this 

evidence. What more the small bodies
glimpsed through rubble, under skies

brutal with death and darkness at noon.
Even the smallest breaths leave a trace.