Joyful Lack Of Noise

I need not mention
the oil-rainbow sheen
of the rock dove’s
feathers.

I have no obligation
to praise the sea
as it needs no praise 
to continue carving the earth
at its margins.

If I were forbidden
to speak of them
the abandoned strawberries
in the broken pot
would thrive or not
anyway.

I say these things
as a way
to keep myself 
here.  I am 
profoundly unnecessary
to all of these
and to so much more:

to almost all, in fact.

What surprising joy there is
in admitting it!