Wordle 271 (After a brief birthday delay)

I Delve Into Nature From An Armchair By A Window

One bluebird bounces–nowhere/wire fence/on a-ways.
Then a wren (or any one of a thousand small
creations we never saw in town) takes a break.

Flitting like a little brown leaf to the ground. Leaves,
too, pass through the big-holed mesh. Like light and shadow,
easy as air, squirrels traverse the plane. Every thing

minds its own business. No one nods, taps a finger
to his cap, comments on the weather. It all looks
accidental to me. Where birth happens or gas

runs out. Individual feathered atoms, veined
protons, become spent. A little brown rest: they wake.
Just as all the other small things stop and start. Now

a moth flaps onto the window screen–another
sort of fence–flutters out of my field of vision
and back. A black wolf spider, pea-sized wrestler, comes

and paces a while on the screen square. A moth
like a leaf, spider like a pebble. One gray cloud
and a mountain. Random and chaotic as life.

Until the spider pounces and the brown moth dies.


Words From the Sunday Whirl





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