Guinea fowl feathers float around
in almost every room of our house.
I can't resist picking them up
when I'm out walking.
I'm dotty about the spots!
White spots on black...
Black spots on white ....
.... spots, speckles and dots in nature
and in art.
With Thanks to the Field Sparrow,
Whose Voice Is so Delicate and Humble
by Mary Oliver
I do not live happily or comfortably
with the cleverness of our times.
The talk is all about computers,
the news is all about bombs and blood.
This morning, in the fresh field,
I came upon a hidden nest.
It held four warm, speckled eggs.
I touched them.
Then went away softly,
having felt something more wonderful
than all the electricity of New York City.