Wingra Views

"...but the
    reaper cannot
       separate them out there they

are in the story of his life
    bright random useless
       year after year..."
         
   – Mary Oliver, from "Morning Glories"




Even the Buckthorn berry,
   considered a menace along the shore trail
       perfect little beads

little globules of the perfect red
    whose curved sides
         bob but little, stationary

reflects the slivers of sunshine
    making it through the lush
       leaf of cottonwoods

and hold their space as if defiance.
   That is the way of all that is living.
       That choiceless perfection as is.

Below, as if in unison, autumn leaves
    create for the eye –
        lens of the earth –

a pattern of color
    and fiber and nutrient
        that does not think but will

eventually reach the lake
    from underneath along rootlines
         where my footmarks will never reach