I walk to the green trees to ground myself–
past chicken bones and styrofoam
from some long-since digested takeout,
past lines of cars
and under train bridge.
Until–
From here, beneath the
canopy of sisters,
I look out
on open meadow
where a lone matriarch
casts her long shadow.
Undoing my backpack,
I rest on great-grandfather
stump– and
Look up!
The woodpecker
doesn’t mind my gaze.
But listen!
No hum of appliance.
No buzz of overhead light.
Still can be heard
the traffic blocks away,
But the black-capped chickadee,
the crow,
and robin
talk louder–
They have something to say.
Step closer. 