No stable animals lowing
On this mid winter morning
Only the stealthy silence of a
pointer mix bounding at every
Squirrel she sees. Even the clucks
Of the urban chickens next door
Though Perhaps they are silent not out Of reverence but because they
Could not lay. Their goose, as
We might tell Tiny Tim, is cooked.
The occasional bustle of a neighbor’s
House. College kids home from break,
Grandparents laying their eyes on a baby for the first time, children laying
Eyes on aging parents for the last.
A stroll jolted by a squirrel’s zip. Dylan’s whine in the earbuds,
Reminding you, “you ain’t goin
Nowhere.” You are tempted to
Be the crazy neighbor who
Yells that at the college kids,
That they will go nowhere
Fast, even though we are all
Doing just fine in this little
Town dotted by little houses
Built up since the Great War.
In this little town, where we
All do just fine, where we
Wait, hope, expect, and
Wait some more. All for
A child Who some say
waits for all
A child who always
Keeps us all waiting.
Ambiguity and mystery and a tad bit of doubt.