Sam Hamill, 'Vigilance'

[duathir.livejournal.com]

Vigilance

Trees, shrubs, grass—everything
glistened in late February frost
as first rays of sunlight
filtered through the woods.
I stood at the window,
coffee mug in hand,
and watched the first spring robin
hop and scratch and eat,
scratch and eat, first under
lace-leaf maples, then
along the edge of the path
that leads out
to my studio. I watched,
for almost an hour,
a happy bird enjoy a feast.

And for an hour, I put
away all thoughts
of our president in Europe
renewing threats,
put away all thoughts of
people decimated
by a great tsunami,
or of the latest casualties
in Iraq. Enough of that.
Give me
one moment with a robin
and a sunrise,
late winter’s harsh yellow light,
and crack
of frozen gravel underfoot
as I go out to work—
frightening off the bird—

a little wonder
in a suffering world,
a little delight
in a world of pain.
And then begin again.

By Sam Hamill