Here lie reminders of our wildness

hunkering beneath layers of domestication,

fearful and obedient.

Writhing and sighing.

Finite and boundless.

We tentatively

grasp a song,

a tender earful,

and you wonder if the neighbor has a canary.

The curved bill thrasher

can can cantar.

Trilling, leaping, joyful

spring song.

I heard it while out riding my horse one day.

That’s how I know.

I thought I knew the feathered one

with the distinctive “Bird wheet! Bird wheet! Bird wheet wheet!”

But

as we rode by

flying filigree tumbled

on the air and in the bushes.

Another layer.

I was reminded of how our minds

contain us,

drawing pretty picket fences around

safe spaces,

convincing us that we know.

We know

in fear,

in disdain,

in contempt,

in denial,

in solid entitled insistence,

in agreements forced and forgotten.

A starfish

can appear to be discarded trash,

brilliant orange in a tide pool,

reminding you of a familiar label, perhaps?

I gently suggest we take a closer look.

Welcome curiosity.