Kath Abela Wilson
Pasadena, California, U.S.A.

parallel worlds

On a branch above my head two crows are talking. A foot apart, one caws and the other answers, a little softer, a little higher, over and over. Private worlds above our heads, underfoot, afar and near, with intention and instinct. They take little notice of our concerns. I question . . . what are they saying, admire the assured nature of their movements and decisions. Squirrels, as they rush and climb, raccoons on their midnight rounds, butterflies at every bloom, the building of nests, making of webs . . . astounding simultaneity of sound and sense.

while a white lizard
zigzags walls of sunlight
gondolas drift
to bridge our sighs each dips
a pen into the deep