What bounty scatters the ground

Morning In February

Let us take the morning high from the bough,
cupped in a veil of fog, the nightwebs entubated
with starpearl, the meek sun awash in faint whisper.

Let us throw seed to the seedeaters, watch them
descend from huddled places to take what bounty
scatters the ground with the day’s shared sustenance.

Let us behold the rabbit who ventures out from
the hedgerow, against all her better senses, learn
from her that safety is to remain, survival is to risk.



Let us praise the outflung edges of oaks who open
all they will ever be to all that will ever make them so,
those they harbor seeding them well beyond their roots.

Let us stand at the window and take this all in,
become as the dawn in measured contemplation
that comes only with such tender indifference.

Joseph Gallo
February 17, 2014