Postcard From Home

Sitting on the deck, bare feet

on the railing, I watch and listen to

this day spilling out its myriad flow of details, one

after another, one on top of another, seamlessly,

with no apologies, not the slightest backing off:

two ruby-throated humming birds

drinking their sugar water, distant dogs

barking, the sudden shriek

of wood surrendering to a neighbor’s power saw,

those boulders poking out of the hillside, another subdivision

materializing on the stripped land across the valley.

Each detail says “This!”

and has always and ever only said “This!”

Wish I were here.