I’m watching
Many squirrel struggling for the control of the herd, jumping from one tree to another, risking their life for the supremacy of the group.
I’m listening:
The shout of a squirrel that is attacking from the herd, and the sound of the wind of winter.
I smell:
The smell of the grass that is recently mowing at the stadium of softball.
I’m touching:
The silver pencil which I´m writing, and a stick tree that helped me to clean the stone where I am sitting.
I’m thinking:
How can I use the information that I am collecting?
Are the squirrels trying to hit a squirrel that belong to a different group and overcome their lands.
Why the gardener is mowing the grass in the field of softball if the grass is not so long.
I heat winter.
I have a lot of work to do for the business class.
I need to call my family today during the afternoon.
Your mind jumps immediately into the symbolic--doesn't it Carlos? Squirrels vying for power? Isn't it interesting how ideas build, collect, and become something else?
ReplyDeleteI love the senses in this poem, the silver pencil, the smell of the mown grass, squirrel chatter....you stopped the day and caught it! Along with your thoughts of phone calls and studies!