|After the rains above Los Angeles, Feb 2014|
From a place of beauty
where the bouncing wind thumps
against a wood frame window
Watching shape shifting clouds
wander confused and dazed
between the mountains and city below
Listening to parrots chatter
catching coyotes scampering
smiling at that cat rolling in the grass
I sit restlessly
not in a state of peace.
Unease competes with my senses
like an itch on my back
distracting me from appreciation
Because in places far away and maybe even nearby
the same glorious sights, sounds, and smells
thud hollow on the heart.
For if I were a refugee, a hungry child, or a widow
would I see, hear, and feel
the same things as the privileged
this man who sits in his warm home he calls his own
staring out the window
seeing the beauty because of good fortune?