On walks alone through

the old neighborhood

the sights I see cause me

to wonder again

about the nature of things


The question today is not

which rabbit chases the other

over the knotty roots

of an elderly elm


Nor the coos made

by doves settled

so softly, so peacefully,

in leaves and cool dust

in the shade of a curb


As I watch the rabbits huddle

in the deep grass, listen to

the doves in their seductions,

I consider the mystery of why

we find it so hard to love