I have been like the little bird
with one good eye.
As I moved to the feeder
to refill the seeds
she didn’t see me.
So I poked her purplish wing
once, twice.
She hopped about to face me
with her one good eye
then flew away.
Even with two good eyes
I have only seen half
of what can be seen.
But year by year
my callow vision improves,
like veils being lifted away
one by one or
like a foreign language
that sounds like nonsense
until you learn it, speak it
understand its beauty.
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