I am noticing the pupils of giant owls
in the woods around my home. No,
they are hollowed out holes in trees.
Either way, I glimpse the void at the center
of things. Dilapidated stone fences cannot
keep the creep at bay. We feel we’ve lost
something more comforting than here and now.
We long for a lost peace and everything
reminds us of it – first daffodils of spring,
pale yellow with vivid centers, our dog sprawled
on the patch of sunlit floor, the candle lit
dark nights so many times that its wax lilts
and bends, collapses in on its black wick.
Everything signals something lost. But what
is found in loss is something worthwhile.
I do not care what all this feels like –precisely –
for you. In your eyes, I see it means enough.