Like Instruments
When I was a child
whatever I saw stirred me:
pinecone, seashell, duck, caterpillar,
the sable-tipped russet hairs of a fox
its golden eyes
full of wilderness,
the wilderness.
Everything was tuned to the same vibration
like instruments to concert A,
despite the momentary dissonance
of red innards by the roadside,
a squirrel’s corpse,
grandparents dying one by one
younger than I am now
though they seemed so old.
Younger than I am now
grandparents dying one by one,
a squirrel’s corpse
of red innards by the roadside.
Despite the momentary dissonance,
like instruments to concert A
everything was tuned to the same vibration –
the wilderness
full of wilderness,
its golden eyes;
the sable-tipped russet hairs of a fox,
pinecone, seashell, duck, caterpillar.
Whatever I saw stirred me
when I was a child.