Quail

by ROBERT HUFF

THE quail called, “We are quicker than you.
We are of swales; seeds eddy in the swales.
Thorns? Thorns and thistles? We are of them, too.”
They flushed, scattered milkweed behind like hosts
With parachutes. After the covey flew
Ghosts, wingèd whistles, “Quicker, quicker than you.”