
Some days I don’t notice the nuthatch
climbing the cinnamon scales of a pine tree,
or the honeybee paused
on the edge of the birdbath, drinking.
Some days I see only the skim
of a hamburger wrapper floating in the bayou,
a chain link fence studded with plastic bags,
a still gray form in the middle of the road,
justifying despair.
I lose some days entirely,
as if this world can do without me,
as if the way back is not just a few feet away, where a lime green katydid the size of a staple is waiting for my astonishment.
Your insightful poem shook me from my food coma. That’s just it, isn’t it?, to be distracted from what is really important? And then that wonderful moment when the focus is reestablished to a pattern of leaves that look like autumn stars?
Thank you for the reminder and your unique point of view on the world. Brava!
Many thanks on this foggy Deep South morning.