Janis Wails Slow Blues

Listening to that voice I feel my body riding upon the slow and broadly rolling swells of deep, dark waters. With curiously eager schools of small carnivores nibbling at my toes.

Grackles

I watch the grackles come as one,
Striding purposely upon the lawn.
They sense the time, the moment is now.

There! A rabbit!
I watch as it hops from here,
To here,
To there.
To sit, and watch, and listen.

Listen. Listen. Listen.

Then goes! There! And gone.
Did it catch my gaze?
Did it hear my breath?
I can't really know.
Small beings are aware
Of small changes, and
Of what these portend.

The traffic upon the street beyond,
Fitful yet steady, to and fro.
Does it notice the coming of the grackles?
Does it notice the change of times?

I have my doubts.
Our doings are fraught with the weight of self-absorption.
We haven't the patience for natural subtleties.

Trees take too long and are slow to finish thought.
The stars seem to take yet longer, and tarry just a tad.
And the little things seem pointless in their meanderings.

Yet they know the times, when they come;
They sense the signs upon the winds,
Perhaps they see omens in the circling stars.

And our frantic doings will pass and be gone
While the grackles still come as one,
And stride purposely upon the lawn.