waiting

we fill time, waiting
for it to fill us

this morning i hear a cardinal, calling
from some perch invisible, singing
a tune I cannot understand

and yet i do sense something, forming
as bird song fills the air, echoing
within the rafters of my being

what should i feel when i pause, listening
to life i don't understand, hearing
my own pulse bound within?

a roadrunner presented herself this morning, strutting
with defiance over the powdery earth, eyeing
me as if i was not there

she was in no hurry, idling
in the path before me, staring
into the distance as if she knew something

no clock in her nest, no measuring
device strapped to her torso, her legs baring
themselves to the task of nothing

at least nothing 
that either of us could name

so i stopped
she stopped too
we both simply waited

and somewhere, in
a place not so far from here
the minutes of morning 
released their grip on meaning.

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