Peering Out Fish Windows
Just when your life is reduced to a gray squirrel,
Syncopated , hopping from one nut to another,
Tail waving on a jolting body,
You’re trapped behind fish windows.
Exactly when the wind stops,
When joining trees and bushes in celebration
Is your natural reaction to the beauty,
You can only peer at what is real.
When the sun hits, when predatory birds
Stain cold mountain with dark shadows
You’re stuck. Stuck behind fish windows
In man-made air on Naugahyde furniture.
Just when you could be one with it all
You stop. Unable to fulfill desire,
You conjure a scene. It’s you, throwing stale bread
To a squirrel out, out beyond fish windows.
Copyright, Doug Stuber, 1987. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.