April Afternoon Poem by Glen Kappy

Don't know why
but looking at the lawn beneath the apple tree
from my seat beneath the arbor in our backyard—
the mixture of longish grasses and clover
in greens lighter and darker and spots of dazzling white—
I'm thinking I've never seen anything richer or more lovely
in all the places I've been in more than 72 years.

Maybe it's in part because of my age.
Maybe it's in part because I feel I've earned the right to relax.
And yes, if you're wondering, it's mainly just the lawn
my attention veering upward now and then
to the hummingbird couple visiting the feeder
or to the left where the rosemary sways with the slight breeze
as bees come and check out its flowers.
—And now a lone robin is pecking at the grass
while keeping, it seems, a wary eye on me.
And maybe it's in part because all those painters
who came here and started a movement got it right—
there's something special about our New Mexico light.