Towhee

i know i'm

not the first

to succumb to the

wisdom of

fowl persistence

but damn

hoping to

distract myself

in fickle

march

with the hard

cutting

scraping

work of opening

an acre of

gardens along

winding

twisting paths

to keep

my mind

from sorting

sifting through

human situations

with no

friggin

analytical

solution

to tame

my lack

of tolerance

for matters

best left to

slow percolation

in the heart

and there arrives

this eastern

towhee with

its black hood and

rust-painted wings hidden

in some overlooking tree

with its three

notes reminding

the ancient

part of

me to

see the bird

see the bird

see the bird

over and

over again

so beautifully

aggravating so

deeply cloying

that i

throw down

the trowel

look up

to see

exactly

where

i'm

lost