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Where Else?

There's a ceiling of seagulls over the field,
Snatching away at a crouch of mice
You call to me as I watch them wheel.
I'll just stay here, not hear your voice.

There's a carpet of swallows over the trees,
Flung by a corner to catch the wind
That will push away the summer's ease;
I'll stay right here to see them spin.

There's a pavement of sparklers on the lake,
And a ballet of boats that lift to their toes;
You ask me again how long I'll take.
I'll stay here and see where each one goes.

There's a clutter of contrails up in the blue,
Spreading, softening, drifting free,
Aiming at somewhere, at who knows who?
I'll just stay here. You come to me.