Foxglove Moments

June 22, 2015

Sitting out on the hillside at sunset, watching the valley change colors in the transiting light, I read poetry aloud to the gathered squirrels and jays.

No chipmunks tonight. They prefer novels.

At these evening readings, I put peanuts in the feeders. I am the food person to them, bearing feed, seed, peanuts and poems.

(I suspect the squirrels feign interest in poetry simply for the peanuts.)

Tonight we're reading W.S. Merwin, a favorite poet of mine,
here on a hillside not far from Lake Merwin.
No relation that I know of, but still kind of cool.

I prefer his later poems,
about life captured in singular moments,
about living in sync with nature,
about that point where the natural and the spiritual intersect.

My critter neighbors know intuitively, instinctually,
what I am forever trying to understand intellectually.

For them there is nothing to understand. Life just is.
And they are forever present to it--like the best poets in their best moments.