i want to believe in small things first :


that when my daughter stands
on the branches of the old apple tree
and moves her arms just like that
she is not pretending to be

but is

a bird


that the sound of a bird
mid-flight is nothing but vowels –
no lips, teeth, or tongue
to clutter up the air


that the day i fall out of myself
there will be one long
bird-song note that slows
as much as it needs to last

and no longer than that


that for now it’s enough
to lay in the sun like this
beside the tomato bushes
watch the corn stalks brushing above
and be an old dog

for some small sound to leave
the body

2 thoughts on “i want to believe in small things first :”

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