Part of Eve’s Discussion
It was like the moment when a bird decides not to eat from your hand, and flies, just before it flies, the moment the rivers seem to still and stop because a storm is coming, but there is no storm, as when a hundred starlings lift and bank together before they wheel and drop, very much like the moment, driving on bad ice, when it occurs to you your car could spin, just before it slowly begins to spin, like the moment just before you forgot what it was you were about to say, it was like that, and after that, it was still like that, only all the time.
Marie Howe
AngelfromMontgomery et al. 
A great poem from a great poet, for sure. I'm pretty sure this was the first poem I read by her… thanks for sharing!
You are welcome! I'm glad we both like her! "What the Living Do" is a really really amazing collection about which she has said, I believe, the poems are inhabitable in kind of the same way paintings are.