Let’s go see what Now 
is like outside. 
Let’s open the door
look up at the sky
feel the cold night air
on our noses.
Let’s look at our breath
as we walk out
to the street.
Let’s look at how Now
holds the moon
in black branches,
how stars shine down
with a Now from long
long ago, how
they stare down
on our Now which
has coaxed them
to wink at us.
Let’s listen 
to the night sounds
that rove the dark Now
beneath the traffic.
Let’s stop, look back
into the Now at the end 
of the street; there
is something there
but I know it is behind us
in a place called Then
where our footprints
have forgotten
we ever made them.
                        

In early spring unseen beyond green-
threaded sycamores, geese announce
 
their flight. It’s hard, this getting up
and walking out, this making use
 
of a brilliant morning. But the birds’
excited voices full of plans and portent
 
take me back to autumn, when they flew
over the field where we walked
 
among blown and withered leaves;
they passed low above us and we saw
 
their downy bellies. Beneath their harsh
cries we heard the feathered machinery
 
of their flight and I forgot for a moment
the painful creaking of my knees,
 
so like the trees’ complaints as they move
their limbs aside, making way for wind.
                        

You gave up your moment of prime
to brighten this cluttered kitchen table.
 
Yellow lovelies, I am honored
to have you here. Outside you’d just be
yet another bit of the great flowering world,
but in this kitchen, among the papers,
the bottles, even the bananas growing tired
in the bowl, you are amazement itself.
 
Outside among the orange blossoms,
the roses the sweet alyssum,
your light scent would be lost.
With you here, the morning kitchen
becomes a festival of fragrance – you
are the way sunshine smells.