There are days when a glance
from a teddy bear can unhinge me;
when an old photo or another birthday
gone past serve to remind me of everything
we have lost in the shuffle of our years;
when I see that the crow returns
to the fence post because he wants
one of the baby bunnies nursing in the bramble—
(the mother appeared yesterday as I drank
my morning coffee. She checked me out.
She learned I won’t hurt her or the babies.)
I know other things will happen though,
things I can’t control: weaning,
separation, nightfall, crows.