Air show on evening news

In silence the scar-trail of flame: wax-broken clouds: And mother, her children grown, watching:
in this sun-stone
granular late August.

Strangeness
strikes like forked lightning spelling some message
in sun.
Better the beggar brought to the barn
knight upon the peasant:
Small consolation in Sarah’s smile
when the white light comes down & in women’s secret inconsolable religions.