I want to be a crab Covered orange, a little red, just a dab, Soft inside the shell Hard outside where others see, Then I wouldn’t feel so small When the world threatens me.
Many years before my brother died, He said to me that the spiritual realm lay just beyond our grasp, Behind a curtain, And that he’d like to pull it back in order to see what’s there. Now that he’s dead, I imagine him opening the curtain, From the other side, And saying boo.
One bird, two. Three birds, four. One on the walk, One at the door, Collecting seeds For Winter’s store.
Heads bowed in silence, Meditation. The glow of a device and all its glory: Worshipful attention to the technological powers.