what do you want?

you can have the sky,

washed in early morning

by pale sun.

you can have the ground,

bejeweled in cold hours

by glittering frost.

you can have the song,

offered in shadowy spaces

by calling doves.

all require a fee,

one quite marked in these times:

you must pay attention.

never a place

not shelter built with brick or wood

not land passed down through time

not candlesticks carried in hurried flight

never these, though closer

not the one who loved in childhood

not the one who did not

not teachers encountered through many years

not community gathered round

closer still but not even these

a fragment of song, halt in aged voice

a sip of tea, earthy depth with each cup

a scent of salt, overlay to morning fog

and the wrinkles of a beloved hand

to those who rhapsodize about peace

found in nature, and harmony in birdsong

and other lovely things.

I invite you to walk with my dog.

she does not stare at squirrels with warm friendship,

nor at groundhogs or foxes;

they in turn do not invite her to play

or even remain in close proximity when we walk.

they know; she knows; I know that they are prey,

and she would kill any, had she the chance.

birds sing, true, but also squawk,

and not for our enjoyment, remember.

they want mates; they sound warnings over territory;

they signal their health (but this returns to mating).

walking in fields involves dirt, muck, and mud;

with each step, you crush some insect or plant.

find your peace, enjoy your harmony, but do not forget

that these are things that you impose,

imaginary as rainbows in the sky.

she showed no remorse, only regret

to have been found out, caught in misdeed

she arched towards me in pretend contrition

her eyes gave the lie, shining with pride

I knew that inside she was laughing

love forgives much, and so for those eyes,

what could I do but laugh myself

a world full of inexplicable things

inexplicable to me, that is

with each new day I am as a child

reaching into a box of wonders

entering a library of marvels

listening to a chorus of virtuosi

even when streets fill with rushing rain

even when sirens wail in ominous lament

even when walls tumble from searing heat

despair is companioned,

holding fast hands with curiosity

this early morning.

air should smell of rain, wet leaves, mud.

train fuel reek fugs the fields.

birdsong and squirrel chatter should accompany our walk.

metal engines clangor away any animal noise.

nature inevitably prevails,

however industry (and we) might choose.

look up, the sky is ever there;

walk, the earth always beneath;

every manufactured thing; fundamentally part of the world.

in the pause between piston beats,

I hear the cry of three Canadian geese flying their regular overhead route.

I walked and dropped things

my eyes first

they rolled down the hill

then my ears

they fell into a patch of mud

then my nose

it caught on an old stick

then my mind

I draped it acoss a barbed wire fence

it followed me home

stinking like a dog that rolled in muck