stopping to listen to
the birds chatter
watching a car drive by
wondering how many more times
will I hear them
when I’m gone
to contemplate the patterns of branches
and the conversations of leaves
to figure only
even my own being,
so I listen, so I watch

notes: observational poetry, something I do, I pause often now just to look at the trees, or if there is water, water, there is just something about water that draws me, a lake, a pond, the ocean biggest of all, but nature, the core, we are tied in to it all, we all feel it but not always…. in our busy days, with our busy lives filled with things that have no real meaning… I am no different, I am caught in the same revision but it is just that, a distraction from what matters, if anything matters, structures, social structures, determine so many lives but that is the way it was and will ever be, and then all that out beyond ourselves, the sky, beyond, there is so much out there outside our snow globe…