Sprawled behind a layer of thick glass,
they tease and prod one another,
unaware of my presence, and I smile to imagine
how so differently they might behave
if only they knew I were here.
Their caresses tease for curiosity’s sake
as a cold wind whips warm desire
to a froth of mispronounced light.
I know their voices would boast and chatter
if sound would simply share of itself with the wall.
Later, perched up high in a tilting tree;
all branches and no trunk,
they fail to notice me once again
as they trickle by like densely focused salmon,
completely oblivious to my existence.
And over beside the flattened stone,
coated with a nurturing velveteen moss,
lurches liquid in a seemingly drastic way.
While the small flame-eyed squirrel
scolds me ominously, though surely to no avail.
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