1
revisiting the vista i use
for my laptop’s home screen
i meet the gaze of a hawk
hanging in the wind
right where i’m used to seeing
the icons for my apps
the rocks are cold
my thermos mug keeps burbling
2
the muffled knocks
of a pileated woodpecker
opening a new door
into an oak
shadows grow darker
as the clouds thin out
the mountain hisses
in the north wind
i start thinking what if
time never passes
and instead it is us
who pass through it
a walker’s thoughts only
make sense on foot
3
200 years and a trail
may sink into the ground
i’m at eye level
with roots now
the crisp air smells
piney and fungal
leaves are revealing
their true faces
acorns thud down
at odd moments
like the steps of someone
lost in contemplation
4
feet propped up
on my front porch railing
lean against one another
like two old drunks
my thoughts retreat behind
the parentheses of my ears
a Carolina wren chants
his teakettle song