Evolution

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is not advancement,
but adaptation to your space.

Just now
from a branch above
to the right of
the lantern-shaped feeder that hangs
from my deck,

a wren descended
a hundred diagonal feet
and dipped three inches below
the hatch and up -- a check
marked in the air -- to perch
and select the perfect seed.

My fingers
from inches away overshot
my pen. Spacially speaking,
I'm a wreck.

But can I,
in the space of a page,
dive like that bird
on a slanted approach
to saying how we connect
with the perfect rhyme I need?

Check.

Image by Susan Rouse.
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This week's poem reminds me of one by an Irish monk from the year 800. His poem, scribbled beside his translation from an ancient text, told how he and his cat Pangur Ban were engaged in similar work: Pangur Ban chased a mouse while the monk chased the right word. Having just rediscovered the same idea, I'm glad to feel fellowship with that monk across the gulf of 1200 years.

I blogged about Seamus Heaney's great translation of the poem "Pangur Ban" (a.k.a. "The Monk and His Cat") in March 2006. See Reading, Writing, and Pet Ownership ca. 800.

I include an image by Susan Rouse from some months ago. Her discipline of making at least one work per week is the inspiration for this blog. This time, I also include a photograph of Susan's beautiful one-eyed cat Nora. - WSS