A Small Drama

Hearing an unfamiliar chit chit, I

gaze through the window at

a golden oriole shift from one to

another branch of the neighbor's

purple lantana which I haven't yet

trimmed away from my side

of the wire fence.

Behind the bird, as it darts farther

into that bush, then back to an outer

limb, the neighbor’s orange cat drops

softly down from a pile of bricks,

crouches low. I whisper “No,"

try to will the bird to

my side of that metal mesh.

Apparently catching a glimpse

of the cat’s twitching tail, the oriole

lifts and flies over our house. The cat

stands upright, eyes down.

With nothing more to watch now

than the back end of that sharp-

clawed ball of fluff,

I am happy enough.

Time Out

If part of us is always dreaming, filtering

sensation through a dream-screen, then

no wonder for a drowsy moment yesterday

my foot became a moth. No wonder, those faces

two stories high at the window, and that flash

of iridescent green I took to be a fly

casting a shadow across my hand.

A sharp cough recomposed my foot, the tree

out there. The fly flew out of sight.

But on a morning like this, cloudless,

I let my heart quicken, my crystal pendant

hung from the curtain rod shooting

red, yellow and blue through the room.

I hear again that muffled flapping

under my desk, the low buzz

at my wrist, and meet the sky’s

thousand bright eyes blinking

through eucalyptus.