How strange that we can begin at any time With two feet we get down the street With a hand we undo the rose With an eye we lift up the peach tree And hold it up to the wind — white blossoms At our feet. Like today. I started In the yard with my daughter With my wife poking at a potted geranium And now I am walking down the street Amazed that the sun is only so high Just over the roof, and a child Is singing through a rolled newspaper And a terrier is leaping like a flea And at the bakery I pa**, a palm Like a suctioning starfish, is pressed To the window. We're keeping busy — This way, that way, we're making shadows Where sunlight was, making words Where there was only noise in the trees