in the shade
of a chestnut tree
in a garden with
camellias
and orchids
i listen to
schubert's
trio op.100
when
two birds land
in a near tree
and start to
loudly sing

i rush to turn
down
schubert's
masterpiece

nothing we've ever made
or will ever make
will be of compare
to what nature
has made its

unnamed
unlabeled
unspoken
untouched
uninfluenced
and
unatta­inable
to us
while creatures
of meaning

a year ago
a yellow cat
with no name
was born

he's noisy,
friendly,
and
strong

today,
he left

a year ago
a yellow cat
with no name
returned

he's silent,
lonely,
and
old

today,
he died

one cat
one lion
one path
and
no name

a dream
about
an old man
with a
long white beard

he's seated
in a
sturdy wooden chair
at the patio
of an
old stone house

the leaves
have crawled
the chair
absorbing
his legs

there,
he watches
a cherry tree
grow

magnificent
is the life
the old man
lives

on a heavy morning,
the birds sang
conjunctionally,

a faint sunlight
dodged the mass
highlighting
an old oak tree

an impending rain
was booed,
or maybe
cheered,
or preached,

the first drops,
the last wingbeats,
and,
in the old oak tree
a bird sang,
alone

he called,
he waited,
he knew