Squirrel
The mostly shuttered hospital has become a hulk of bricks Where children once were born and grandparents passed. The nurses and doctors have taken the healing arts Out of this once consecrated space. Agonal breaths of a lung that enlivened this city Become gasps for a stale air that has receded, Calling all to a different pile of bricks for the next half generation, Distributing ineffable mysteries of catharsis. And spying upon the old grounds a new creation springs forth - A squirrel has taken careful carefree time to bless this tiny maple. In the crook, in the elbow of a diminutive leafless arbor, He scratches his ears and watches the rushed and chilly scattering. Barely noticed, he notices each ailing clothed creature. Does the squirrel judge, does the squirrel spurn, does the squirrel dismiss? Such destruction of the bonds of creation are impossible To this perfect beast, enjoying the thistled garden. Caring for...