My life changed on a whim.
For no particular reason I watched a squirrel scurry up a tree.
He, or she (but not an it), stared at me.
They went branch to branch, stopping here and there to observe their new observer.

And how many times has this moment passed by, going unnoticed.
How many times had this animal instinct been drowned out by the clutter of daily life.

It wasn’t as though I had disregarded life before, but this was a fundamental awakening.
Before I could wrap my head around the simplicity of this divine happenstance,
I saw a cardinal swoop down on a fence-post a few feet away.
Again, I was enveloped in the novelty of this life.
I was in a state of dull wonder, looking at the vibrant red, the low swoop of the crown, the small of the body.

The trance broke, another squirrel scurried past me and up a tree.

I noticed this one bore a scar.
The hind leg was stripped of fur.
The skin wore the discoloration of freshly healed flesh.
They too, stared at me, perhaps perplexed that it was being watched.

I walked on.
Then finishing my morning walk, I noticed many things.
It was not just life that was intriguing me, it was the way the mundane began to scream at me.
I walked through abandoned lots, noting the way their roads would crack and crumble.
I noticed broken security cameras from long departed offices and buildings.
I noticed the broken marlin in the trash heap behind some house, no longer sporting its beak.
I noticed an old ford with a rubber rifle shell for an antenna and a load of wood planks in its bed.
I noticed a graffiti stick figure on the short bridge, some dystopian cave painting.

All of that to say, a hidden world became revealed.
A world that existed underneath my own, blurred by its previously perceived unimportance.
So now, I wonder what to do with this knowledge.
I think I’ll borrow its magic.
I think I’ll write down the bizarre normalcy that I see.
A running list of averages.
It is the beginning of something.

A door has opened.

Tides continue to turn
Though Rome has changed
The sun still circles as people pray

Prompted to pace
Echoes of rage
Darkness seeps in the shadows
of her longest day
Still we afraid

Little bubbles rise from the fireside
Frustrations heard on the mount
Count in reverse internally and observe the confusion or clout
Why do you serve one of the two when collision rules for the powerful

night slept when she spoke,
creeping  back into its ceaseless
void in reverence or awe.
day paused enviously
at her brightness.
the winds fervently whipped
as she moved, and caressed
her in a motherly wrap.
she viewed this beauty
in nature as it viewed it in her.
taking aim at sunset,
she set herself
to become the beauty
she beheld.

On the old oak tree
Sits a mother with her child
Giving her some lessons
carried from generations!
Her voice so hoarse and quiet
like the black night sky,
"Listen well dear!"
The mother sighed
"Silence is the wisest thing,
Its with you when no one else is,
silence itself is an answer,
to all those fools, who roam around!
Keep quiet, and you'll see,
the light in miracles!
The less you speak,
the more you observe,
and the more you observe,
the more wisdom you acquire,
the more you get to know, about the faces around here,
sit on this old oak tree, and observe
how faces, hide faces!'

Fear can cloud the vision of our fate
Divert attention of a state
Is it wrong to live lethargically
waiting for the bell to be rung
later to be hung

If a virus is afoot
how bad can things become
Should you just amble along
or strategise what's wrong
on how to overcome
Can we help ourselves
to be the change
with a climate in dismay

For pessimism is a necessary
self defence mechanism
Can we directly effect
our surroundings with intent
and elevate our kind
Or are we here to observe
learn and bide our time

On Sundays, I drink
more coffee and more whiskey.
Reflections on the previous week
provide for accurate predictions
about the week ahead.
Books and snacks go down easily.
Attaining clear focus
helps the writer observe society
to build the words
that raise spirits
and raze evil.

–Ron Gavalik