Tell me what I am seeing on my daily
walk to the park.
Tell me if the squirrels are stopping
for more than fear as they stand with their paws lifted,
their side-eyes looking strongly at me.
Tell me what they are feeling and tell me if I have felt that also.
Tell me whether that feeling is within and also beyond fear
and tell me if their momentary stare becomes words in me
and whether those words are true.
We are here together. We survived the rain together.
It was not a deluge and no trees fell.
Tell me if these young animals, my neighbors,
are surprised by winter after the long summer heat.
Tell me who taught them when to begin to bury the walnuts
from my tree and how they know where to find them again.
Tell me what we can learn together.
Tell me if we can mourn together if this year, again, another thousand trees
fall in our city, uprooted by uncanny winds and flooding rains.
Tell me, because I do not believe it,
whether scientists will learn to decode the language of animals
and tell me if they are watchers and guardians
who can help us to learn what we must:
about what our near future holds
about what can still be set right
about what to tell our children
about it all.
