A lot of my life has been spent learning
what it means to live in a world
with coyotes that need to eat,
and rabbits that want to live —
and also eat —
and zinnias that would like to grow.
I know a balance I can’t calculate
is needed.
But I try to fudge the numbers anyway,
stamping my feet at two coyotes
on Race Road one morning before dawn,
as they stalk the rabbits
eating the early spring’s new green leaves.
Or running out the kitchen door last winter,
flapping a dish towel at the Cooper’s hawk
that dives calmly into our hedge, talons
aimed at a house sparrow chattering away,
nibbling berries hidden in the branches.
Maybe I need to just stand still and watch,
this violence and heat,
and to hope for the best.
Really, to learn I don’t know
what best means, now or ever.
Jeff Krehely lives in Provincetown.
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