Here's something I wrote a couple of years ago. It came to mind as I woke this morning, and somehow feels appropriate.


The child holds the book.
"Birds of Coast and Sea".
She reads the descriptions,
Works hard to find the birds.

There are sections here called "Bird Notes".
She's not sure what to put there.
She leaves it blank for now.
Maybe one day, she'll know.

She believes this information has
Meaning. That if she
Stores it away, one day
The world will make sense.

She BELIEVES this. No one
Told her so. But she feels
There must be some pattern
That makes it all make sense.

So, earnestly, bird by bird
She works to fill the gaps,
To understand it.
Make order out of chaos.

She's got to Kittiwake.
She thinks she saw one once.
She can't be sure though.
Kittiwake. She likes the word.

It all gets mixed up though.
She feels as if unless she
Gets it right, gets it all straight,
She'll NEVER understand.

Watching the world,
Watching the people,
She knows the secret must lie
In KNOWING these things.

So she carries on. Walking
Alone with her book,
Looking at the birds.
"Kittiwake. Kittiwake"

(sept '10)