my friend lost his husband three years ago and today he clings to someone new, big bouncy smiles, arm in arm, shoulders touching   he stops and asks             How are you Gary?   we ignore the white elephant and turn to my white dog, Oliver who accepts all strokes of attention accompanying the lilting sound of his name   as we separate, I turn to see them holding hands and wonder what they’re talking about – the sweet song of a bird, a shared moment from yesterday a reminde

a hummingbird plucks wispy threads from the fringe of palm leaves, pulls apart the geometry of a spider web and picks up lint and other tendrils of human byproducts   and with the needle of her beak weaves a soft cradle for the next generation of blurry- winged addicts of nectar   she hovers at face level perhaps for a loose eyelash or hair on my brow, a striking accessory for the nest   but nest building isn’t about pretty as she zooms off, the timer inside her ticking  ...

Is your country at war?   I think mine is, wouldn’t bombing and killing others beyond one’s borders be part of the definition?   yet they call it an incursion, a targeted operation, a military exercise that has a video game feel pictures of crosshairs and explosions   with the indifferent aftermath of dusty bodies, smoking ruins and the wails of the living who knew the dead   perhaps it isn’t a war perhaps our president simply loves people bending knees, cowering to his viole