Wednesday Poem

Looking Around Believing
Gary Soto

How strange that we can begin at any time.

With two feet we get down the street.

With a hand we undo the rose.

With an eye we lift up the peach tree

And hold it up to the wind — white blossoms

At our feet. Like today. I started

In the yard with my daughter,

With my wife poking at a potted geranium,

And now I am walking down the street,

Amazed that the sun is only so high,

Just over the roof, and a child

Is singing through a rolled newspaper

And a terrier is leaping like a flea

And at the bakery I pass, a palm,

Like a suctioning starfish, is pressed

To the window. We're keeping busy —

This way, that way, we're making shadows

Where sunlight was, making words

Where there was only noise in the trees.