Nature's Hierarchy
There is something about the pine branches
weighed down with snow,
the lone bluebird underneath, incredulous,
questioning her springtime instincts.
On a different street, a man in pajama pants
and boots impales his yard with a shovel,
not expecting to work on a Saturday
in April. He pauses from his labor, glances
upward for some kind of reprieve and is met
by a maelstrom of rushing flakes.
Nature's hierarchy is no different from ours,
stretching vertically from ground to sky.
The trick is to move sideways, to create
your own power, to live with and not
up or down.
There is something about the pine branches
weighed down with snow,
the lone bluebird underneath, incredulous,
questioning her springtime instincts.
On a different street, a man in pajama pants
and boots impales his yard with a shovel,
not expecting to work on a Saturday
in April. He pauses from his labor, glances
upward for some kind of reprieve and is met
by a maelstrom of rushing flakes.
Nature's hierarchy is no different from ours,
stretching vertically from ground to sky.
The trick is to move sideways, to create
your own power, to live with and not
up or down.
