You knew youth, and life too: drifting slowly into lewd bones, gossamer-dross, rank sinew, feathers lost on a breeze. Years of roosting and fussing, bustling turbulence behind a carapace of leaves — subdued by moonset and foxes hunting. Thronged by blood of kin, flapping about nothing, soaring to June skies and thermals, attuned by consanguinity. Above, steel-eyed hawks, scoring complacent circles, swoop, sensing loosed joy, to unleash a savage eternity.