a poem
the robins speak to me
in soft little voices
imperceptible to anyone
not tuned to their song
they speak of love
and sex
and the impermanence of life
the chipmunks scurry past
giggling at all this profundity
while the gray squirrel bellows out
profanities
and slings cuss words my way
it’s may, and all the denizens of
the island
are laughing, fucking
and frolicking
as I stroll along
my merry way
