Over ten billion House sparrows served
At noon, around the cars in the back parking lot
flutters a flock of evolved sparrows.
They use a small fleet of parked grocery carts
and dumpsters as their clubhouse.
After all, why hunt when you can served?
The sparrows are industriously picking
flying bugs off the grills of the parked cars,
venturing as far under the hood as the radiator
where the bugs are not only thick but toasted.
In such an ecological niche, their exposure
to predators like rough-legged hawk hovering overhead
is minimal, and with new cars arriving
the lunch is served fast and hot.
It may be that all intelligence
like all cognition
like all creation
gets fuzzy out
towards its edges
y’know like Albert Einstein
before conditioning rinses.
WHERE WE CAME OUT OF THE GROUND
Hopping from stone to stone
clinging to crumbling shale banks,
washed in cool air draining from the crevice,
big hemlocks skinned and polished
in their tumbling descent through gravel,
exposing whorl and gnarl.
Hepatica, trillium (still shut), bloodroot,
Dutchman’s breeches and a fern new
to me, with elongated leaves bearing
root tips seeking a hold in shale wall niche.
Bluets and arbutus, we scramble
on all fours nearly straight up,
don’t look down, on a final burst
of nervous energy.
Walking back from the top
on roads, the long way around,
through woods’ understory
white with toothwort retracing
a difficult birth struggling up
out of the womb, walking
away in sun.