It’s been a long time since I’ve stared at grass
not open fields with galloping equine
but backyard tuff
you mow yourself–
when you can
because you are so busy
with the work/commute/work/dinner/work/sleep/work.

It’s been a long time since I’ve stared at a leaf
not the pile for my enjoyment
but the loner
that rolls across the spring yard
because you are busy
with fun/commute/fun/dinner/fun/sleep/fun.

It’s been a long time since I’ve stared at wood grain
not paneling on cheap cabinets
but the home
the warbler calls from
when he can
because we are so noisy
–
Have you pointed to the light
and held a hand tight enough to melt
into one thought–diving into
someone who knows
when I lie to and with me
in the umbra of an oak tree.