The Pressure of Discovery
Each form of life has its own beat.
Watching birds in flight I almost soar with them.
As my cat stretches it calms me.
Through our yard, a mongoose scurries
my eyes hurry
to follow him disappear
Under the pressure of discovery his beat must be quick
as the cat peers after him lazily
his languid fur ruffles in the breeze.
This escape into their rythms becomes the
very substance of living.
The peace of dawn, or a sunset three steps from the freeway.
A dove flaps up to nestle beneath the rattling traffic.