Pine Wind
 |
| (Found here) |
the tops of the pines—
a message I cannot distinguish.
Birds trill and bicker
among the branches
and though I’ve asked my daughter
when she walks with me
which bird is that
and that one,
that fluting
cascade or soft buzz, the recognition
flies from me when alone
but their calls are enough
to satisfy. I let go of certainties—
who needs them? So I gather
all the unknown birds like questions
to which I give refuge—
I feather my nest with
the lack of answers,
the indefinite and unsure.
I am even grateful
for the sluggish brown water
unraveling under the bridge
with October’s leaf detritus toiling
so slowly downstream
no destination in mind, quiet
like the right sort of prayer
which asks nothing
beyond itself.
~Raphael Kosek
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