I quit
a job
today.
Gave notice to ones
who never noticed me
from their big city vantage.
Problem is
I can’t figure
out who to be
next.
A cog, an ant
a worker bee,
good little performer
of tasks done to
forward some
one else’s dream?
What do the trees
think? Standing there
sucking earth’s blood,
doing their own job.
The third cup of coffee
never tastes as good
as the first. Better to
move on.
Read the journals,
find a clue. What it takes—
breathe air meaningfully,
expel truth.
Be the lucky one to
spy the right words
laying on the path.
Who will pay me
to notice birdsong
in my own backyard?