Common Nighthawk

I used to be flesh and blood,

but now I ghost down streets

gray-cloaked by dusk;

no weight to my muted feet.

When did I fade out and husk

to a thin hollow reed.

A blaze of Canary grass

gathered up so warmly once,

now strewn down,

feeling only the twilight sound,

the rasping, invisible skree

of the nighthawk calling me.