Think about when to pull back
the window shades. Step to it:

using the cords, level the blades of the shades
just so. It’s grey outside, no sun yet.

The lavender flowers, the white flowers,
some with pistils just as bright

and others, stamens brown to black,
sitting side by side, waiting for the bees

to come. Step to it: go outside,
it’s just about dawn and there’s nothing indoors

that you need to do. In fact, why you’d ever thought
there was something you’d need to do indoors

is a mystery. Today, there’s no
mystic crystal revelation here;

the old songs, chestnuts of your youth,
vanish in perfect silence. You turn off

the radio and shut your imperfect eyes.
The flowers await your presence, or they don’t.

But you love them, or something like that.
You blink once, hoping it will mean

something to them, but it’s unknown
for now if it does. You blink a second time.

This is the second time.
Has anything happened?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T