a "felt change
in consciousness"
as a mark of the aesthetic
march across our lives.
It is the poetic diction
of the poem and the poet
that tears at us and nurses
us along toward health.
A Northern Flicker
lands on the oak tree
by the hammock in
mid-November.
Skipping and flitting
about the trunk,
clinging to the bark,
listening for what lies
just below the surface;
looking for that which
has escaped the within
to the without.
The bark is wet with
the steady fall
of melting snow
in the howling
winter
wind.
Words
take us away
from other
felt consciousnesses
and give us
a shift
and change
to notice life
a-new and a-fresh.
For this now
I am only
able to feel
that tree,
that snow,
that bird.
THIS Now.
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