Fog covers the town
or so I’m told
by those who tell.
Another natural event
that enlivens my heart
like the gathering of starlings
and the whoosh of them going,
the V of geese flying over
announcing themselves noisily.
Sunrise, sunset, the turn of the leaves.
The call of the elusive Kingfisher
and the cry of the hawk.
All of these simple miracles
tell me a secret I already knew
but love to be told again and again:
this life is a Russian doll
nested with gifts inside gifts
down to the tiniest prize
of the wren calling
Good Morning!
to anyone who will listen.
