May 15

Somewhere Presently

In the distance, a newborn is wailing (a strand of hair is wrapped around his toe)
A sparrow rises to the branches bearing beams for her babies’ nest
A woman at a coffee cart on the sidewalk below tells the barista —
She’ll pay for the coffee of the father behind her with two young children
Music drifts down from a nearby window —
A child practices the piano in an apartment above — they will be someone someday,
(even though that note was supposed to be an a-sharp, not a b)
Across the street, a tabby cat stretches, fulfilled, in a sunbeam on the windowsill
An elderly man sits at the wheel of his car pondering what he will do when he arrives home
He misses his grandchildren; it's been months apart —
Miles away (but close to heart), they sit at their kitchen table after school awaiting his call
A librarian down the street introduces a young girl to Maya Angelou
And Grace Paley — and the world expands before her eyes
A delivery woman buzzes past with packages overflowing — their lavender bike matches the flowers recently awakened
A ginkgo leaf falls from the tree planted on the walkway
Arm in arm, a couple strolls by — coffees in hand, bubbling conversation in the air
The sun shines, occasionally covered by clouds floating past
Sunbeams seeping through leaves and branches
Then, now, and evermore, we are connected in this wonderful dance