Postcard From Home
by Al Zolynas

Sitting on the deck, bare feet
on the railing, I watch and listen to
this day spilling out its myriad flow of details, one
after another, one on top of another, seamlessly,
with no apologies, not the slightest backing off:
two ruby-throated humming birds
drinking their sugar water, distant dogs
barking, the sudden shriek
of wood surrendering to a neighbor’s power saw,
those boulders poking out of the hillside, another subdivision
materializing on the stripped land across the valley.
Each detail says “This!”
and has always and ever only said “This!”
Wish I were here.

via: read a little poetry

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