on the sidewalk we pass, unknown degrees of caring, a random junction of two lives, the quick crossing of paths, just one of many thousands that won’t alter either of us   so it makes perfect sense to show the dull look, useless grunt or fake smile to every stranger    today I said to a couple who stopped to drink   ah, the horses need water too . . .   he whinnied, she bucked

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  ...