MEADOWS

Tonight, on my late evening walk, I did an odd thing
and positioned myself on the path behind a young couple
whom I heard to be arguing.

Positioned is a generous word for what I did.
I all but leapt off the bench where I had been sitting looking at the castle,
and jogged to get close enough that I might hear the music of their disagreement.

I don’t know exactly why I did it.
It was so warm out, the day before my birthday, and it felt like Portugal.
I suppose I was just in a good mood and feeling unflappable,
and in the lyrics of this young couple’s fight I felt
I could hear
the circles of the world
harmonizing with the birds nesting in the cherry blossoms.
So I followed the song around the park for a few minutes, that’s all.

There are times, you see, when the knowledge of the death of all things
brings me this curious reprieve from the daily heartbreak I feel
for the slaughtered chicken,
that gorgeous feathered friend of mine,
ground up and murdered for nothing.
The hunted fox.
Or that elegant lady spider, crushed under tissue paper or shoe. 

I think of sun swallowing earth,
all of us together as prey,
to a bigger, crueler thing than we are,
and it saves me.

So, yes,
tonight, on my late evening walk,
I did an odd thing,
and smiled, as something died.