Swift Diachrome

Was it fright,
or planned flight?
Against a sea salt expanse
black & white confetti tossed
or a drove of dice rolled out into air.
Some look like the grade school drawings
we made of any bird in any sky, a two-stroke
stretched wide check mark.                 Still center
holds feathered blades to a churning heart.
Squawking flock departure into spacious
winter void. Glance back with those
same eyes open at birth at the
wingless man in a heavy
coat to keep his
arms warm.