Do flowers know the mystery of roots
or snow the droplet-dancing of the thaw?
Do morning birds hear poetry in their flutes,
do trees cry out when bitten by the saw?
Do caterpillars sense cocoons ahead
to shed their land-locked lives as left for dead?
Do honeybees rejoice to find their hive
when pollen-laden, wings spread wide to life?
No questions from the
tally of our days
or where or how they close inside the gloam --
I recall you everywhere sun plays,
and all the places laughing waters roam,
and by the fireplace in your chair at home,
and tangled in my heart, this shred of poem.
J. Pratt-Walter
6/17/2022
