FROM THE "UNION PIER" POEMS:

Solitude

This morning’s task: to identify the trees

in the neighborhood.  Plucking a leaf

or picking up one off the ground I

observe closely its shape

  ovate or oblong

       its margins

  toothed or smooth

two or three lobed.  I gaze at the leaf and

skim the guide to find its match – back and

forth, back and forth:

is it a red mulberry or an American sycamore,

        a northern red oak or an American elm?  

Wandering the dirt paths in search

of natural knowledge can be a solitary

enterprise, unless you count the squirrels

and crows, the occasional possum, all

the birds.  I find this solitude addictive,

dangerously appealing, tempting me

to avoid human contact.  I force myself

to fight the seducer and find my way

to the intersection of Townline Road

and Red Arrow Highway, the only corner

in town that bristles with action:

the Country Kitchen, the Pumpernickel

Inn, LaDuke’s Ice Cream and Confections,

the grocery store, the bakery, the auto

repair shop.   The sun shines

hot and bright this morning.  It’s gonna

be a scorcher, the round lady in

the coffee-shop exclaims as I walk

in.  And I am grateful for her words.