the rising and falling of shoulder blades.
the red legged millipede,
attracting the poet’s attention,
inside the poem.
(the poem is the unfolding of time
which is to say,
this particular millipede, is a real millipede
and not a millipede of memory or of the imagination.
It really crawls over these concrete steps I sit upon.)
A bird lands on a tree branch
sends a curtain of raindrops
crashing from the leaves.
The secret to learning is this-
staying in the one place, for a very long time.
The branch trembles. The leaves tremble.
grass lives. tiny forest. swath of utopian green.