Here's How We Know We're Not Alone

Here’s how we know we are not alone:

because we are surrounded by small universes:
the squirrel on the cedar branch out my window,
and how he tilts his head when I greet him;

because of the bluejays and juncos pecking
at seed on my balcony, and the one with
the strange yodel who alerts me
when they need some more;

because, on the beach yesterday, at low tide,
there was so much life: crabs scuttling ponderously,
starfish and anemone clinging to rock walls
or bathing in tide pools; mussels clicking
in their mysterious language
along the rocks;

because the early morning moon was
huge and round and buttery,
going down behind the hills in Lemmens Inlet;

because of the village dogs who love me
because I carry treats in my pocket, and how they
drag their owners over to me, their tails wagging
with joy, their happy eyes alight,
and how they make my day;

because the air smells like summer mornings
when I was a child;

because there are small universes everywhere,
when we step out our door;

because tree branches sigh soft songs to us
along the forest trails;

because my poem reaches out to you,
and your poem replies.

Day Sixteen of Wild Writing with Laurie Wagner. Sharing it at earthweal's open link.