It’s enough to find my way to the end
Of each careless step—knowing as I do
That no one is watching me take it.
So I should spread my arms out to each
Lively moment, each syllable, and say
Yes. I’m watching a fat squirrel poke
Her nose around a bird feeder.
The sun shines on her supple back
As she moves little paws through blades
Of grass, munching sunflower seeds
Cast off by profligate jays. There.
It’s an intimate observation, the gleam
On her back, the small precise paws.
When I rise to go, to finish my day,
I’ll have one hand on this image, one hand
Working the world, to try and fool
The mind into sewing steps together.
Have I confused the process of metaphor?
Nearness to me now, Little Beast, never
Leave me, never let me understand.