A Possible History Of Consciousness Poem by David Brooks
A Possible History Of Consciousness
Jessica, riding
up and down on her tricycle,
the dog
sniffing at his empty bowl,
Indian mynahs at the
lip of the yard,
uncut lawn, the breeze
stiffening as the storm gathers
a million leaves, feathers, grass-blades
waiting
in the dark corner
sheltered by the walnut,
tipped
by new spears of green,
six plants
not seen before
rising from last winter’s leaves.
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5/6/2024 4:54:48 PM # 1.0.0.1119
