Teach Me About Nighthawks

By Connie Andes

Ah, there it is –

I lift my eyes to throaty

rasp. A nighthawk skewers sky

above main street shops

craving community midst

solo flight.

Weighed with years

Mother glowed young

teaching me to follow the bird call

until bat-like, it emerged

overhead. We laughed in

sharp-eyed success.

Laughter faded with disease –

the lesson now is death

but I, a reluctant pupil, prefer

the cry of nighthawks.

– Connie Andes lives in Lawrence.