Amphimacers, Love, and Surds

Outside my window there are trees, and birds,
And a ravine. There might be a coyote,
Foxes, rabbits, the call, harsh and throaty,
Of the blue jays. My life comes in thirds:
The world outside my home, my friends, and words;
I worry more about hearing there's no tea
Than how rain falls. I'll see a man in a dhoti,
And ponder amphimacers, love, and surds.

I'm tired of yellow formentil and bluebonnets,
I do not care about the waves that billow,
The fate of humpback whales, the weeping willow,
Typhoons, or stories of a planet on its
Last legs. Just let me dream of Bach, and sonnets,
When I lay my head upon my pillow.