4/20/2017

What scares me is how human we are.  Blinkered, biased, bound to the forces that shaped our evolution millennia ago.  We hamstring ourselves, yet imagine we run free.

Almost Easter

Fat bees drift toward
overgrown honeysuckle,
twice my height and yours.

In the damp, a bird
hurls itself into the heart
of the new window,

beats its wings to right
itself, slaloms past the glass.
We grow old watching.