To wonder

The sky is the color of the snow on the roof next door,
so that it looks like all sky, no house.

Trees frame the lack of house,
branches arched in a question
as to its whereabouts.

Either the trees don't know
or they're playing along, part of the ruse,
or it is just their nature

to wonder.

*photo from Purdue University, ash tree.

I wonder

I am back to Hass, who says this morning that,

It must be a gift of evolution that humans
Can't sustain wonder. We'd never have gotten up
From our knees if we could.

And I am with Bob on this as "Wonder" has
always been a wonder of mine. It stamped itself
known and unknown on me since before I heard
Aristotle posit that "philosophy begins in wonder."

As I sit with the taste of coffee strong on my lips and tongue
I overhear a conversation between a clock here in the room
and a morning chorus of birds chatting up the sunlight.

Clock and birds are incessant cacklers and I wonder
how long they've been having this talk and
who will grow silent first